David had known him all his life, but he never spoke to him more than was necessary to answer his questions and though he had known his name for as long as he could remember, he never said anything but "the man" when he spoke about him or thought of him. The man's eyes were small, repulsive, light in color, their expression never changing his face was gross and fat, yet at the same time square and angular. He saw the man and was conscious, somewhere in the pit of his stomach, of the hard knot of hate he always felt whenever he saw him. In his mind's eye David saw once again the gray, bare room he knew so well. When you see me strike a match, the current will be cut off and you can climb over-you'll have half a minute for it, no more." "Stay awake so that you're ready just before the guard's changed. "You must get away tonight," the man had told him. But this evening he was aware of their voices only as a vague, meaningless noise in the distance, and he paid no attention to what they were saying. David lay quite still in the darkness, listening to the men's low muttering.
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