‘Now what?’ The guard jerked his head up the corridor. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. He stared at her stupidly, forgetting to guard against the tactics he had come to expect from her.
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