“I see nothing of my sister,” she said. I saw the metal box a hundred times, but I never thought of opening it until the day I fled. The Dawn Pearl. Prison was bleak without spaciousness, and pervaded by a faint, oppressive smell; and she had to wait two hours in the sullenly defiant company of two unclean women thieves before a cell could be assigned to her. It would have been the right idea, had Ruth been other than what she was. She threw him his car keys. The blue jowl, the fat-lidded eyes—now merry, now alert, now tungsten hard—the bullet head, the pudgy fingers and the square-toed shoes were all in conformation with the doctor's olden mental picture.
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