There was only one prisoner in the ward. Her back arched and she felt herself instinctively sinking into him. It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male. “Ah!” said Ramage, impressively. Even as she watched, the sweat of weakness began to form on his forehead and under the nether lip. Hot coffee and cakes were sent in to them in the morning by some intelligent sympathizer, or she would have starved all day.
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