260 “Can you turn me into one?” “Yes, I can turn you into one tonight. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. The coachman having received his order, and being offered an extra fare if he drove quickly, set off at full speed. Oh, I grew fond of you as the years went by. ” He said. They were headed by an athleticlooking, swarthy-featured man, who was armed with a cutlass, which he waved over his head to cheer on his companions. ‘She’s wearing a lightskirt’s clothing?’ ‘Nothing obviously so, I assure you. “His back was towards me,” Anna said. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. The stench was cheese-like and unbearable and Lucy dry-heaved. ” Her hand fell back into her lap.
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