nted to tell you about.

"It was something bigger, something tremendous. You'll not believe this
part of it, but I was absolutely happy in that cell. It was a sort of
deep-down unexcited happiness. I'm not a bit religious, but I _know_ how
the nuns feel in their cells when they've given up everything and shut
themselves up with God. The cell was like a convent cell, you know, as
narrow as that bit of shadow there is, and it had nice white-washed
walls, and a planked-bed in the corner, and a window high, high up.
There ought to have been a crucifix on the wall above the plank-bed, but
there wasn't a crucifix. There was only a shiny black Bible on
the chair.

"Really Frank, if you're to be shut up for a month with just one book,
it had better be the Bible. Isaiah's ripping. I can remember heaps of
it: 'in the habitation of jackals, where they lay, shall be grass with
reeds and rushes. And an highway shall be there ... the redeemed shall
walk there: and the ransomed of the Lord shall return with singing into
Zion' ... 'They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they
shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary;
they shall walk, and not faint.' I used to read like anything; and I
thought of things. They sort of came to me.

"That's what I wanted to tell you about. The things that came to me were
so much bigger than the thing I went in for. I could see all along we
weren't going to get it that way. And I knew we _were_ going to get it
some other way. I don't in the least know how, but it'll be some big,
tremendous way that'll make all this fighting and fussing seem the
rottenest game. That was one of the things I used to think about."

"Then," he said, "you've given it up? You're corning out of it?"

She looked at him keenly. "Are those still your conditions?"

He hesitated one second before he answered firmly. "Yes, those are still
my conditions. You still won't agree to them?"

"I still won't agree. It's no use talking about it. You don't believe in
freedom. We're incompatible. We don't stand for the same ideals."

"Oh, Lord, what _does_ that matter?"

"It matters most awfully."

"I should have thought," said Drayton, "it would have mattered more if
I'd had revolting manners or an impediment in my speech or something."

"It wouldn't, _really_."

"Well, you seem to have thought about a lot of things. Did you ever once
think about me, Dorothy?"

"Yes, I did. Have you ever