se little dark eyes seemed to her the
most terribly living things she had ever seen. She felt that they had
taken her in from top to toe, clothed and unclothed, taken in the
resentment she had felt and the pity she was feeling; they seemed at once
to appeal, to attack, and to possess her ravenously, as though all the
starved instincts in a whole prisoned world had rushed up and for a
second stood outside their bars. Then came the clank of keys, the eyes
left her as swiftly as they had seized her, and he became again just that
stealthy, noiseless creature scrubbing a stone floor. And, shivering,
Nedda thought:

'I can't bear myself here--me with everything in the world I want--and
these with nothing!'

But the stout janitor was standing by her again, together with another
man in blue, who said:

"Now, miss; this way, please!"

And down that corridor they went. Though she did not turn, she knew well
that those eyes were following, still riving something from her; and she
heaved a sigh of real relief when she was round a corner. Through barred
windows that had no glass she could see another court, where men in the
same drab-gray clothes printed with arrows were walking one behind the
other, making a sort of moving human hieroglyphic in the centre of the
concrete floor. Two warders with swords stood just outside its edge.
Some of those walking had their heads up, their chests expanded, some
slouched along with heads almost resting on their chests; but most had
their eyes fixed on the back of the neck of the man in front; and there
was no sound save the tramp of feet.

Nedda put her hand to her throat. The warder beside her said in a chatty
voice:

"That's where the 'ards takes their exercise, miss. You want to see a
man called Tryst, waitin' trial, I think. We've had a woman here to see
him, and a lady in blue, once or twice."

"My aunt."

"Ah! just so. Laborer, I think--case of arson. Funny thing; never yet
found a farm-laborer that took to prison well."

Nedda shivered. The words sounded ominous. Then a little flame lit
itself within her.

"Does anybody ever 'take to' prison?"

The warder uttered a sound between a grunt and chuckle.

"There's some has a better time here than they have out, any day. No
doubt about it--they're well fed here."

Her aunt's words came suddenly into Nedda's mind: 'Liberty's a glorious
feast!' But she did not speak them.

"Yes," the warder proceeded, "some o' the