Lucy? Come 177 on out. Though scarcely two hours past midnight, it was perfectly light. On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison. Indignation carried her through that night, that men and the world could so entreat her. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. “I know that our social order is dreadful enough,” he said, “and sacrifices all that is best and most beautiful in life. ‘You! Tell this fool who is the keeper here to come to me at once. He slapped his knee. " "Excepting your father.
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