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Apathy still lay upon
her crushed spirit. In a vague way, she realized her own
inertness, and rested in it gratefully, subtly fearful lest she
again arouse to the full horror of her plight. In a curious
subconscious fashion, she was striving to hold on to this
deadness of sensation, thus to win a little respite from the
torture that had exhausted her soul.
Of a sudden, her eyes noted the black lines that lay across the
panel of light. And, in that instant, her spirit was quickened
once again. The clouds lifted from her brain. Vision was clear
now. Understanding seized the full import of this hideous thing
on which she looked.... For the panel of light was a window, set
high within a wall of stone. The rigid lines of black that
crossed it were bars--prison bars. It was still true, then: She
was in a cell of the Tombs.
The girl, crouching miserably on the narrow bed, maintained her
fixed watching of the window--that window which was a symbol of
her utter despair. Again, agony wrenched within her. She did
not weep: long ago she had exhausted the relief of tears.


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