She felt vaguely disappointed.
"You wait—till when?" she asked.
He smiled.
"Till a very old friend comes by," he answered. "She has seldom failed me, and then my own laggardness was at fault. They call her Opportunity."
CHAPTER XXII
THE PRISON
"What is to be the end?" asked Claire, suddenly, wearily. "What is to be the end?"
Aylmer looked up from his pallet on the floor—looked at the girl—looked at the walls of bare masonry—looked at the shaft of sunlight which slanted through the barred window. For eight and forty hours he had lain there, shamming, shamming, shamming. For three days previous to his being brought to that place, he had lain as motionless in the lazaret of the Santa Margarita.
Conceive it—you who walk abroad as you list! Nearly a week of inaction, when all the time your blood is coursing healthily in your veins, your feet itch for the road, and your wrath, above all, is suffering a continual fever for which no remedy is presently available.