She pulled herself together and put her eye to the eye-piece. The first peg was torture. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. 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. Why? If she had put the query to herself, she could not have answered it.
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