Hot coffee and cakes were sent in to them in the morning by some intelligent sympathizer, or she would have starved all day. She addressed her letters, meditated on them for a time, and then took them out and posted them. You have converted me to—Lester Ward! You are my dear friend, you are a slip of a girl, but there are moments when my head has been on your breast, when your heart has been beating close to my ears, when I have known you for the goddess, when I have wished myself your slave, when I have wished that you could kill me for the joy of being killed by you.
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