justifiably hoped, would not linger. Altogether, it struck him
that it might be a good test-room for an alienist: no incipient
lunacy would remain incipient here.

There was one incongruity which surprised him--a wicker
waste-paper basket, so nonsensically out of place in this arid
cell, where not the wildest hare-brain could picture any one
coming to read or write, that he bestowed upon it a particular,
frowning attention, and so discovered the second attractive
possession of the room. A fresh and lovely pink rose, just opening
full from the bud, lay in the bottom of the basket.

There was a rustling somewhere in the house and a murmur, above
which a boy's voice became audible in emphatic but
undistinguishable complaint. A whispering followed, and a woman
exclaimed protestingly, "Cora!" And then a startlingly pretty girl
came carelessly into the room through the open door.

She was humming "Quand I' Amour Meurt" in a gay preoccupation, and
evidently sought something upon the table in the centre of the
room, for she continued her progress toward it several steps
before realizing the presence of a visitor. She was a year or so
younger than the girl who had admitted him, fairer and obviously
more plastic, more expressive, more perishable, a great deal more
insistently feminine; though it was to be seen that they were
sisters. This one had eyes almost as dark as the other's, but
these were not cool; they were sweet, unrestful, and seeking;
brilliant with a vivacious hunger: and not Diana but huntresses
more ardent have such eyes. Her hair was much lighter than her
sister's; it was the colour of dry corn-silk in the sun; and she