"Strong language, my dear; but words, words, words! I won't kill you,
and you won't live here until your head is hoary. Golden locks like
yours are a long time turning gray. And you won't dash your brains out
against the walls, because the walls are padded. Is there anything else
you wish to say, Miss Dane?"
"Only this," with blazing eyes, "that whoever you are, you are the
vilest, basest, most cowardly wretch on the wide earth! Go! I would
murder you if I was able!"
"Not a doubt of it, my angel! Once more, good-night!"
He bowed low, passed out, and locked the door. Mollie was alone in her
prison.
Now, little Cricket, fairy that she was, was yet brave as any giantess.
Not a drop of craven blood flowed in her spirited veins. Therefore, left
alone, she neither wept, nor raved, nor tore her hair; but took a
prolonged survey of her surroundings.
It was a large, lofty room, lighted by a single gas-jet, dependent from
the ceiling. The four walls were thickly wadded, and there were no
windows, only one door, no pictures, no mirror--nothing but a few
stuffed chairs, a table, a lavatory, a bed.
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