Just my room. ‘Precisely,’ agreed Gerald. Half a day had turned the corner of the hours; and Ah Cum admitted that this girl puzzled him. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. The door was too strong, and too well secured, to break open,—the walls too thick: but the ceiling,—if he could reach it—there, he doubted not, he could make an outlet. Nothing would stop her, and she was prepared to face the consequences.
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