“Is that not rather a profitless speculation, my friend?” He seemed deaf to her interruption. And, after all, a fine clear sky of bright colors is the signal to come out of hiding and rejoice and go on with life. He was sitting back from the table now, with one arm over the back of his green chair and the other resting on the little table. He had him removed from the Condemned Hold, stripped of his fine apparel, clothed in the most sordid rags, loaded with additional fetters, and thrust into the Stone Hold,—already described as the most noisome cell in the whole prison. No, I thank you.
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