He was looking pale and ill. A young man was playing the banjo. It is a cheering reflection, that in the present prison, with its clean, wellwhitewashed, and well-ventilated wards, its airy courts, its infirmary, its improved regulations, and its humane and intelligent officers, many of the miseries of the old jail are removed. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. Slowly, he drew back his head and looked into her face. You seem altogether altered, too. But she threw a verbal bombshell into the spinsters' camp. You know that I am practically destitute, without means or any certain knowledge of where my next meal is coming from. And they never talked of anything at all, never discussed, never even encouraged gossip.
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