Making her couch upon a heap of hay, she sank at once into a deep and refreshing slumber. Her heartbeat quickened. There was nothing left now of the selfassured, prosperous man of affairs. Prison was bleak without spaciousness, and pervaded by a faint, oppressive smell; and she had to wait two hours in the sullenly defiant company of two unclean women thieves before a cell could be assigned to her. John, I shall eat that whole tin of sardines. "Ah! Owen Wood, is it you?" cried David in astonishment. The vicomte has, he say, enough femmes in his hands.
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