It was not long before she remembered that for good behavior
certain days were deducted from the convicts' terms of imprisonment.
Therefore, her ruffian might be released at a moment not anticipated by
her. He might, in fact, be discharged on any day. He might be on his way
toward her even now.
She was not very far from right, for suddenly the man did appear.
He one day turned the corner, as she was looking out at the window
fearing that she should see him, and came in a diagonal direction across
the hot, flagged square.
Miss Eunice's pulse leaped into the hundreds. She glued her eyes upon
him. There was no mistake. There was the red face, the evil eyes, the
large mouth, the gray hair, and the massive frame.
What should she do? Should she hide? Should she raise the sash and
shriek to the police? Should she arm herself with a knife? or--what? In
the name of mercy, what? She glared into the street. He came on
steadily, and she lost him, for he passed beneath her. In a moment she
heard the jangle of the bell. She was petrified. She heard his heavy
step below. He had gone into the little reception-room beside the door.
He crossed to a sofa opposite the mantel. She then heard him get up and
go to a window, then he walked about, and then sat down; probably upon a
red leather seat beside the window.
Meanwhile the servant was coming to announce him.
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