" "I do not doubt it," returned Jack; "none but those who have experienced it can understand the miseries of imprisonment. “What nonsense is this? What raving! My dear child, you DO live, you DO exist! You have this home. Every now and then she fingered an ornament, moved a piece of furniture, or rearranged some draperies. ‘Keep your distance! You dare to tell me I cannot refuse?’ He glared at the girl. Then for the first time she was conscious of an unaccountable and terrifying sensation. About the Abbey and Abingdon Street stood the outer pickets and detachments of the police, their attention all directed westward to where the women in Caxton Hall, Westminster, hummed like an angry hive.
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