When the turnkey, next morning, stepp'd into his room, The sight of the hole in the wall struck him dumb; The sheriff's black bracelets lay strewn on the ground, But the lad that had worn 'em could nowhere be found. Sheppard. She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. One nail drives out another, it's true; but the worst nail you can employ is a coffin-nail. The immense disillusionment that awaited him! The devastating disillusionment! She had a vague desire to run after him, to state her case to him, to wring some understanding from him of what life was to her.
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