In the general survey of the prison, taken in the preceding chapter, but little was said of the Lodge. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes. None presented themselves to save him from that return. She could have dined alone in her room; but courage had demanded that she face the ordeal and have done with it. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. What would it be without that safeguard?” Ogilvy pursued his own topic. “And you must please not look at me as though I were an executioner,” she declared lightly.
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