Their conversation was conducted in the flash language, and, though unintelligible to Wood, was easily comprehended by this companion, who learnt, to her dismay, that the wounded man had received his hurt from her son, whose courage and dexterity formed the present subject of their discourse. A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. The turning of the key startled her, but she did not see how she could make an objection. “I have waited for this,” he said, and stood quite still, looking at her until the silence became oppressive. Brown broke the silence. I ought to have gone long ago. She traveled through back yards and quiet side streets on her way home, careful to avoid the main thoroughfares, fraught as they were with people in cars who would recognize her person or notice her dress. Her favor was sought beyond all women’s favors. It is not, my dear Veronica, that I think there is any harm in you; there is not. “Take off your tunic.
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