The monster, Wild, when he visited my dungeon last night, told me, to add to my misery, that she occupied a cell near me. “I want to ask you a question,” she said abruptly. ’ He clenched his fists and grew red in the face. It’s the sort of way a woman always does gloss over her ethical positions. I shall like to think of it—whenever I feel dull. A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming. Ain’t enough as I’ve got militiamen quartered on me this se’ennight, lazing about all day, eating me out of house and home and drinking my liquor into the bargain.
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