Three more months of this! Three ...

more ...

months!...
But at length she slept; slept deeply, for she had the gift of sleep in its perfection; slept a complete and flawless oblivion.

So that when she awoke Saturday, refreshed, and glanced blinking about from her thin pillow she did not at first remember where she was.

This low room, four by seven feet, with a narrow bed penitentially hard, a stationary wash-basin, a row of iron clothes-hooks, a foot-high oblong window above her head--what was it?
How had she come here?
And had any one ever before lived in such a cell?
Then memory came flooding back.