His mother used to live i' this village, just down yonder; but when her son took to bad ways, she went distracted,—and now she's i' Bedlam, I've heerd. She felt a lump rise in her throat, for she had come to love living in America. Now drop it. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. “Hey,” he said, his eyes slowly adjusting to the soft blackness. "Swear that you will do this," she cried. Do not disquiet yourself. "One of us has got to die," he panted. ’ ‘Ah, but I have a special reason for doing so this time. ” He held out his hand obediently.
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