" The doctor relaxed. “I do not know you,” she said coldly. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. Why not? Were not his own sentiments inclined in favour of the patient? But fifty gold was fifty gold. In a tall glass the rind of a Syrian orange was arranged in spiral form. 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.
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