A sob was strangled in her throat. For the first time he seemed to wonder what it might be that she had to confess. Here you only waste your time. "I should like to know where Mr. ’ ‘Merci,’ she sighed and, surrendering at last to his oft-proffered aid, allowed her head to droop onto his chest. ” She grinned. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. When she judged that she must be nearly back at the library, she began to feel somewhat dispirited. The walls were bare, and painted in stone-colour; the floors, devoid of carpet; the beds, of hangings; the windows, of blinds; and, excepting in the thief-taker's own audience-chamber, there was not a chair or a table about the premises; the place of these conveniences being elsewhere supplied by benches, and deal-boards laid across joint-stools. There were dark rims under her eyes, soft now with unshed tears. But, by Jove! you are fierce! You are like those Roman women who carry stilettos in their hair. The great door of the Stone Hall was thrown open, and the sheriffs, preceded by the javelin-men, entered the room.
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