The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. She stood there limply and did not act to resist him. She often found herself absorbed by watching the tall grass undulate from the cave’s central doorway as solitary hunters prowled for buffalo and stag on the plain. The man looked closely at Anna as she crossed the footway, and as he held her skirt from the wheel he pressed something into her hand.
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