'Well, this is better than living in a dark cellar twenty years, with nothing to do but walk up and down, sleep, and consume dates and Ismidt wine.'
'Yes!' says she.
'Twenty years!' said I: 'How did you bear it?'
'I was not closs,' says she.
'Did you never suspect that there was a world outside that cellar?' said
I.
'Never,' says she, 'or lather, yes: but I did not suppose that it was this world, but another where he lived.'
'He who?'
'He who spoke with me.'
'Who was that?'