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CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH THOUGHTS IN PRISON Part 1 The first night in prison she found it impossible to sleep. "I'm my own master now, and I'll do as I please. " "Mr. Glad to get back, I’m sure,” he said briskly. “Forgive me,” he said. But always this new phase in life which civilization called convention threw up barrier after barrier. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. She had, by the magic of recollection, set the picture of the typhoon between herself and her table companions: the terrible rollers thundering on the white shore, the deafening bellow of the wind, the bending and snapping palms, the thatches of the native huts scattering inland, the blur of sand dust, and those two outcasts defying the elements. Part 2 Ann Veronica Stanley was twenty-one and a half years old. "And now, widow," he continued, "attend to the next verse, for it consarns a friend o' yours. I have something that weighs heavily upon my mind. Hist!’ he added, as he turned his head and noticed Alderley’s glance. Already he was dramatizing Ruth, involving her, now in some pearl thieving adventure, now in some impossible tale of a white goddess.
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