Though nearly dark, there was still light enough left to enable him to discern surrounding objects. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. Immediately beneath the pulpit stood a large circular pew where malefactors under sentence of death sat to hear the condemned sermon delivered to them, and where they formed a public spectacle to the crowds, which curiosity generally attracted on those occasions. “I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly. These joyful bounds just lace into the stuff of my memories and stay there forever. And don’t talk until we’re well out of earshot.
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