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‘I was not born to this. A handy knife, and a good tot of something sharp to clean out the wound. Her mouth was worthy of her face; with small, pearly-white teeth; lips glossy, rosy, and pouting; and the sweetest smile imaginable, playing constantly about them. Neither of these wards had beds, and the unfortunate inmates were obliged to take their rest on the oaken floor. Their colorful displays seemed to repel the dreariness of the sky as each group savored its long awaited moment, its weekend arrival in front of the opposite sex. CHAPTER V.
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