“Hospital? What for? What’s the matter with me?” Courtlaw’s voice sank to a whisper. With such qualifications as she possessed, two chief channels of employment lay open, and neither attracted her, neither seemed really to offer a conclusive escape from that subjection to mankind against which, in the person of her father, she was rebelling. Pile it on! But if you can hear the voice of the mote, the speck, don't let her suffer for anything I've done. She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth.
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