“And you must please not look at me as though I were an executioner,” she declared lightly. ” “It is ironic that you say that, John, for it is I who am afraid of you. ‘Can’t see a thing. It had ceased raining, but the atmosphere was moist and chill, and the ground deluged by the recent showers. They rose as she approached. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. "Shall I take the babby home with me!" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. The whole incident was so unexpected that neither Courtlaw nor Brendon were awaiting.
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