profession, to see something of each other every year. McCall ran
up to town once or twice through the winter, and stayed at Pollard's
house, and Pollard managed to spend a week or two with him in peach
season.

"I thought I knew your swing, McCall, two squares off. Looking for
me?"

"No: I followed a lady, a friend of mine, who has just gone in at the
gate."

"You know her, eh?" eagerly. "A most attractive little girl, I
thought: She went in with the chaplain to see one of the prisoners."

McCall paused, his hand on the gate. A horrible doubt stopped his
heart-beating for an instant. But how utterly absurd it was! Only
because this black shadow pursued him always could such a fancy have
come to him. "The prisoner is a woman?" with forced carelessness.

"Yes. A poor wretch brought here last spring for shoplifting. Her
term's out next week. She has had a sharp attack of pneumonia, and
has not much strength to bear it: she is a miserable wreck from
opium-eating."

"Opium-eating? Can I go in?" said McCall.

"Certainly."

When the woman heard their steps on the corridor she said to
Catharine, "I hear my husband coming now."