Her aunt’s words came suddenly into Nedda’s mind:  ’Liberty’s a glorious feast!’ But she did not speak them.

“Yes,” the warder proceeded, “some o’ them we get look as if they didn’t have a square meal outside from one year’s end to the other.  If you’ll just wait a minute, miss, I’ll fetch the man down to you.”

In a bare room with distempered walls, and bars to a window out of which she could see nothing but a high brick wall, Nedda waited.  So rapid is the adjustment of the human mind, so quick the blunting of human sensation, that she had already not quite the passion of pitiful feeling which had stormed her standing under that archway.  A kind of numbness gripped her nerves.  There were wooden forms in this room, and a blackboard, on which two rows of figures had been set one beneath the other, but not yet added up.

The silence at first was almost deathly.  Then it was broken by a sound as of a heavy door banged, and the shuffling tramp of marching men—­louder, louder, softer—­a word of command—­still softer, and it died away.  Dead silence again!  Nedda pressed her hands to her breast.  Twice she added up those figures on the blackboard; each time the number was the same.  Ah, there was a fly—­two flies!  How nice they looked, moving, moving, chasing each other in the air.  Did flies get into the cells?  Perhaps not even a fly came there—­nothing more living than walls and wood!  Nothing living except what was inside oneself!  How dreadful!  Not even a clock ticking, not even a bird’s song!  Silent, unliving, worse than in this room!  Something pressed against her leg.  She started violently and looked down.  A little cat!  Oh, what a blessed thing!  A little sandy, ugly cat!  It must have crept in through the door.  She was not locked in, then, anyway!  Thus far had nerves carried her already!  Scrattling the little cat’s furry pate, she pulled herself together.  She would not tremble and be nervous.  It was disloyal to Derek and to her purpose, which was to bring comfort to poor Tryst.  Then the door was pushed open, and the warder said: 

“A quarter of an hour, miss.  I’ll be just outside.”

She saw a big man with unshaven cheeks come in, and stretched out her hand.

“I am Mr. Derek’s cousin, going to be married to him.  He’s been ill, but he’s getting well again now.  We knew you’d like to hear.”  And she thought:  ’Oh!  What a tragic face!  I can’t bear to look at his eyes!’

He took her hand, said, “Thank you, miss,” and stood as still as ever.

“Please come and sit down, and we can talk.”

Tryst moved to a form and took his seat thereon, with his hands between his knees, as if playing with an imaginary cap.  He was dressed in an ordinary suit of laborer’s best clothes, and his stiff, dust-colored hair was not cut particularly short.  The cheeks of his square-cut face had fallen in, the eyes had sunk back, and the prominence thus given to his cheek and jawbones and thick mouth gave his face a savage look—­only his dog-like, terribly yearning eyes made Nedda feel so sorry that she simply could not feel afraid.