A chill ran through his frame, and, grasping the heavy weapon with which chance had provided him, prepared to strike down the first person who should enter the cell. Somebody ought to talk to him, warn him. The thought of going back!—the thought of the unknown out there!—" with a tragic gesture toward the east. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. ” “I promise,” he answered heartily.
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