The bars of the window were close together.

A woman, a child, could disengage our hands, and then--I turned sick again.

I thought of the cruel stones.
I glued my face to the bars, and pushing aside a corner of the curtain, looked in.
There was only one person in the room--a woman, who was moving about fully dressed, late as it was.

The room was a mere attic, the counterpart of that we had left.

A box-bed with a canopy roughly nailed over it stood in a corner.