Hot coffee and cakes were sent in to them in the morning by some intelligent sympathizer, or she would have starved all day. He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face. I don’t mind it. She seemed to have recovered herself as he returned, but rose as if she would go back to the saloon.
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