Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. “I don’t know where to go to. She tried to scream, \"I'm coming to you, Mama!\" But no sound would come from her mouth. The day comes when you shall regret how you have spoken to me. Everything was very neat; it had evidently been straightened up and kept for her. ” She shook her head. How could she tell him of the evil that drew her and drew her, as a needle to the magnet?—the fascinating evil that even now, escaped as it was, went on distilling its poison in her mind? "Yes, yes!" said the doctor. She spoke slowly.
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