She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. She seized the key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the handle and the ward as she tried to turn it. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. I'm crazy over music, too. Ennison spoke at last. 1724 THE PRISON-BREAKER.
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