” “Why did you keep her all of these years? What good can it do?” “She created me, Lucia. He had now reached what was called the Lower Leads,—a flat, covering a part of the prison contiguous to the gateway, and surrounded on all sides by walls about fourteen feet high. “May I be allowed to say,” he declared, “that I came here with the same intention. On the one hand, she seemed to think plainly and simply, and would talk serenely and freely about topics that most women have been trained either to avoid or conceal; and on the other she was unconscious, or else she had an air of being unconscious—that was the riddle—to all sorts of personal applications that almost any girl or woman, one might have thought, would have made. “You are magnificent,” she said, “but the steel of your truth is a little oversharpened. You are not with the Kent militia, are you?’ ‘West Kent, yes. “You do not know what such a relation means.
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