The doll she had never owned, the cat and the dog that had never been hers: here they were, strangely incorporated in this sleeping man. “Sir John of course disapproves of me,” she remarked slowly. And guess what? I don’t sleep much, if you haven’t noticed. 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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