“MY DEAR MISS PELLISSIER,— “To-morrow the six months will be up. She leaned forward, her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and she set her gaze upon his face and kept it there in dreamy contemplation. ” Anna drummed impatiently with her fingers against the arm of her chair. On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison. She was a woman now to the tips of her fingers; she had said good-bye to her girlhood in the old garden four years and a quarter ago.
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