“But your sister,” he said. So long. Manning questioned whether when they were bad they were really beautiful or when they were beautiful bad. The carpenter did not hesitate a moment. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. “MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. I want to give myself to you.
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