CHAPTER XI.
THE GARMENTS OF ANOTHER Left alone, Josephine St.Auban at last attempted to pull herself together.

With the instinct of a newly caged animal, she made a little tour of the room.

First she noted the depth of the windows, their height above the ground.

No escape there, that was sure--unless one, cat-like, could climb down this light ladder up which the ivy ran between the cornice and the ground.

No, it was a prison.
In the room itself were good yet simple furnishings.