One of the shutters was a trifle damaged, letting in added light. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. “Just at present my mind simply won’t take hold of this at all. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. But the possible attitude of her father she had still to face. ’ Gerald dropped down to join her just as her hand came up, clutching the handle. “Yes,” he said, “I shall come. ‘Not here. He's an interpretative genius, if there ever was one. “I’m not going to kill you, John.
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