The place seemed a riot in neglect, for across the white sanded
paths thick creepers had flung their arms, and vines and climbers
were scaling the gnarled limbs of the acacia trees and covering the
high walls beyond. She was looking to the west where the rose and
gold of sunset still hung breathless on the painted air, though the
sun was hidden below the fringe of palms which rose above the wall,
and for a moment that still brilliance of the sky above the sharply
silhouetted palms made her heart quicken in forgetfulness.

And then her hands became aware of the bars she had been
unconsciously clasping, white-painted bars extending across the
window. They were of iron.

Not even here was there freedom, she thought with a throb of dread,
not even here where one faced dark gardens and blank walls and the
empty west.

* * * * *

Somehow that dinner had passed, that queer dinner in the candle
light between the silent, painted woman and the politely talkative
young man, and passed without a word from outside for the girl whose
nerves were fraying with the suspense. The old woman and the little
girl had served them with a meal which would have been judged
delicious in any European hotel and though Arlee's nerves were
tricky her young appetite was not and she ate and talked with a
determined little air of trying to dissipate the strangeness of the
situation.

And with the coffee came inspiration. She began to plan ... half