What was she going to do? One main idea possessed her: she must get away from home, she must assert herself at once or perish. If you knew your aunt were alive, if she expected you, that would be different. At length, about three o'clock, as the first glimmer of dawn became visible through the barred casements of the round-house, the rattling of bolts and chains at the outer door told that some one was admitted. It was no use. This is a tale of two young fools. She had looked forward to an explanation. She became as The Tigress, a free thing. . ‘No, you don’t. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury.
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