She did not answer him, as she did not know what to say. “No,” she said, under her breath, “you can’t face it. He was confined in the Middle Stone Ward, a spacious apartment, with good light and air, situated over the gateway on the western side, and allotted to him, not for his own convenience, but for that of the keepers, who, if he had been placed in a gloomier or more incommodious dungeon, would have necessarily had to share it with him. He was mad. But you don’t particularly want to do the job that sets you free—for its own sake. His feet would have the firm texture of his hands.
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