There was nothing to be got out of the man. He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw. He had a narrow escape, however; for, passing within an inch of him, the bullet burried itself deeply in the wall. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. " "Wood's daughter, I suppose?" observed the other. She winced as he thrust the fact at her, was about to answer, and checked herself.
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