“To-morrow. I've got to think it over. I can't stay now, Lolly.”
He rose and went to the door and rattled it. Sweeney's steps came slowly down the corridor. Allen sat still while the jailor opened the door.
“I'll see you again, then, Mr. Hicks.”
Allen looked up suddenly with an impish grin.
“Pretty cool, ain't he?” said Sweeney presently. “I didn't hear much noise. Now, when Mr. Hennion came here—look here, I told Mr. Hennion—why, you look at it, now! There ought to be a new jail.”
“I see. Not very creditable.”
“Why, no.” Sweeney argued in an injured tone. “Look at it!”
“I want to bring Hicks a book or two. May I?”
“Why, I guess so.”
Aidee went home, hurrying, not knowing why he hurried. His hands felt cold, his head hot and dizzy. He longed to hide and not see the faces on the street, faces which all judged that Lolly should die.