This is also the ragged edge of the world, too. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. ” “It would be different all the same. The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. You see—I didn’t understand. He was confined in the Middle Stone Ward, a spacious apartment, with good light and air, situated over the gateway on the western side, and allotted to him, not for his own convenience, but for that of the keepers, who, if he had been placed in a gloomier or more incommodious dungeon, would have necessarily had to share it with him. Not that it would make any difference if he was alive still.
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