The storeroom was not more than ten feet square, and the roof was so close over his head that he could not stand upright.

It was not the smallness of the place that struck him first, but the preparations which Marette had made for him.
In a corner was a bed of blankets, and the rough floor of the place was carpeted with blankets, except for a two-or-three-foot space around the edge of it.

Beyond the box was a table and a chair, and it was the burden of this table that made his pulse jump quickest.

Marette had not forgotten that he might grow hungry.

It was laid sumptuously, with a plate for one, but with food for half a dozen.