A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink. “I am afraid—I really think that one of us ought to go with you,” he said. It was time to leave America. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. As soon as he had gained his feet, he glanced round the bare blank walls of the cell, and, oppressed by the musty, close atmosphere, exclaimed, "I'll let a little fresh air into this dungeon. She has contrived to keep out of my sight up to this time, and I've no doubt she'll keep out of it altogether for the future. It’s a sort of blacklegging to want to have a life of one’s own. Together they made their painful way to the door, not even checking, in the effort this cost both, on what Gosse might be doing. . The door opened.
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