She cut a deep gash into her own arm with a steel screw, loosing drops of her own blood onto the floorboards. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. ” “Possibly—bit by bit. I'm sorry. 4. The feeling of last days grew stronger with her as their number diminished. “But I have no troubles. You should have confided in me, and fallen in with my plan at the beginning.
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