"Why?"
"That is no business of thine. Tell me what scheme thou hast in thy head. Dost desire the death of the three?"
Zulannah shook her head and turning it so that the wounds and distortion were hidden, leant against the wall.
"Not yet!" she said, loosening with filthy hand the uncombed masses of jet-black hair, which still retained something of the perfume of better days. "Not yet! Let me think awhile."
And she paid no heed to the man, who sat staring at her, breathing heavily.
The right side of her face, untouched and perfect, showed in all its beauty against the dirty whiteness of the wall; her hair served as a mantle to the perfect figure in the soiled satin wrap; her crippled limbs showed not at all in the foul room lit by a wick floating in a saucer of oil.
The light went out suddenly.
Oh, Zulannah! surely your cap of misery was full to the brim!
CHAPTER XXV
"He that has patience may compass anything."