CHAPTER XXIII. Even now, during the recurring doubts of the future, the thought of the island was repellent. “Our marriage must be annulled. " "Never!" cried Mrs. “You be off, missie,” said the fatherly policeman. The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. I got a rusty bolt cutter. But if you don't want to get up, maybe three times ten days. .
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