passion of pitiful feeling
which had stormed her standing under that archway. A kind of numbness
gripped her nerves. There were wooden forms in this room, and a
blackboard, on which two rows of figures had been set one beneath the
other, but not yet added up.

The silence at first was almost deathly. Then it was broken by a
sound as of a heavy door banged, and the shuffling tramp of marching
men--louder, louder, softer--a word of command--still softer, and it
died away. Dead silence again! Nedda pressed her hands to her breast.
Twice she added up those figures on the blackboard; each time the number
was the same. Ah, there was a fly--two flies! How nice they looked,
moving, moving, chasing each other in the air. Did flies get into the
cells? Perhaps not even a fly came there--nothing more living than walls
and wood! Nothing living except what was inside oneself! How dreadful!
Not even a clock ticking, not even a bird's song! Silent, unliving,
worse than in this room! Something pressed against her leg. She started
violently and looked down. A little cat! Oh, what a blessed thing! A
little sandy, ugly cat! It must have crept in through the door. She was
not locked in, then, anyway! Thus far had nerves carried her already!
Scrattling the little cat's furry pate, she pulled herself together. She
would not tremble and be nervous. It was disloyal to Derek and to her
purpose, which was to bring comfort to poor Tryst. Then the door was
pushed open, and the warder said:

"A quarter of an hour, miss. I'll be just outside."

She saw a big man with unshaven cheeks come in, and stretched out her
hand.

"I am Mr. Derek's cousin, going to be married to him. He's been ill,
but he's getting well again now. We knew you'd like to hear." And she
thought: 'Oh! What a tragic face! I can't bear to look at his eyes!'

He took her hand, said, "Thank you, miss," and stood as still as ever.

"Please come and sit down, and we can talk."

Tryst moved to a form and took his seat thereon, with his hands between
his knees, as if playing with an imaginary cap. He was dressed in an
ordinary suit of laborer's best clothes, and his stiff, dust-colored
hair was not cut particularly short. The cheeks of his square-cut face
had fallen in, the eyes had sunk back, and the prominence thus given to
his cheek and jawbones and thick mouth gave his face a savage look--only
his dog-like, terribly yearning eyes made Nedda feel so sorry that she
simply could