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When leaving, I very nearly held out my hand and said, “Good-by”; just in time I remembered that I’d killed a man.
Inquiries had been conducted at Marengo and the police informed that I’d shown “great callousness” at my mother’s funeral.
So I learned that even after a single day’s experience of the outside world a man could easily live a hundred years in prison. He’d have laid up enough memories never to be bored. Obviously, in one way, this was a compensation.
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