CHAPTER XVII. She found pieces of it on the blacktop near the green dumpster, amazingly small pieces considering the fabric’s original heft. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. With a small saw, conveyed to me a few days since by Thames Darrell, which I contrived to conceal upon my person, I removed a spike in the hatch, and, with the aid of some other friends, worked my way out. Then, quite insensibly, her queenliness had declined. Money was not necessary; indeed, it would have embarrassed all concerned.
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