A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. The scanty furniture of the rooms corresponded with their dungeon-like aspect. “You must tell me the truth, please. She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth.
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