when I recognised from the street number that she was in prison.
I haven't seen her in fifteen years. She was the village belle and
made what was supposed to be a brilliant marriage."

They entered the grim old prison, that looked like an Egyptian
temple, with its huge slanting walls of granite squatting low on
Centre Street like a big pot-bellied spider, watching with one eye
the brilliant insects of wealth on Broadway and with the other the
gray vermin swarming under the Bridge and along the river.

Kate put her hand on Gordon's arm and drew closer as they passed
down its gloomy corridor to the warden's office.

She tried to smile, but by the twitching at the corners of her
full lips he could see she was nearer to crying. Again, as her body
touched his, he felt the warmth and glow of her beauty, her blue
eyes, cordial and grave, her waving auburn hair with its glowing
fires, her step luxurious and rhythmic, and. now as her hand
trembled, instead of the gleam of cruelty and conscious power, the
timid appeal to the strength of the man.

She looked at him and lowered her eyes, and then flashed them up
straight into his face with a smile.

"I'm not afraid!" she said impulsively.

"Of course not."

His steel-gray eyes looked into hers, and they both laughed.