on that very account they thought he must be something.
a stop. Red hops off the back, waves his thanks. The truck
Cle. Most true, if such is the fact.
keeps smiling, inscrutable. As Red watches, a brilliant round glow builds behind the poster, shining from the tunnel. The poster rips free, charred to ash in the blink of an eye as a shaft of holy white light stabs into the cell. Sunlight. Red staggers back against the glare.
And you will come out at fifty! You will enter young, rosy, fresh, with brilliant eyes, and all your white teeth, and your handsome, youthful hair; you will come out broken, bent, wrinkled, toothless, horrible, with white locks! Ah! my poor child, you are on the wrong road; idleness is counselling you badly; the hardest of all work is thieving. Believe me, do not undertake that painful profession of an idle man. It is not comfortable to become a rascal.