But although startled and clearly afraid, there was no self-consciousness in her gaze and she was standing her ground. There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo. The arrested women were herded in a passage of the Panton Street Police-station that opened upon a cell too unclean for occupation, and most of them spent the night standing. "I think the natives saw you coming out of the lagoon, one dawn. Down that on the right the young culprit was dragged—along that on the left a fainting woman was borne in the arms of several females. Out of sight of that tell-tale window, the two officers darted across the grounds, speedily gaining the lee of the mansion walls.
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