He had removed his silk hat, and now sat looking at Ann Veronica over an untouched cup of tea; he sat gloating upon her, trying to catch her eye. ” She stared before her, trying to keep back a rush of tears. A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. Of course he hadn't played the game wisely. 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. “It was a phase,” she said.
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