The door to the room in question was closed. “Thank you—for coming,” he said. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. Heard voices. It is easy enough to sing these little chansons in an original way—it requires a very different sort of ability to succeed on the stage. The woollen-draper looked at his watch. There must be ways of getting rid of him. In all his life he had never realized a dream; but the thought had never before hurt him.
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