Prison was bleak without spaciousness, and pervaded by a faint, oppressive smell; and she had to wait two hours in the sullenly defiant company of two unclean women thieves before a cell could be assigned to her. It filled her with indefinable fear. "Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. It’s all right. ’ ‘But what have I done?’ protested Gerald innocently. Fool that I was to part with my lantern! But I'll soon set myself straight. He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face.
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