"You soon shall," rejoined Sheppard. "You are my prisoner. Is this a reason?’ ‘Not good enough? Now I had every hope that it would appeal to you. He did not look at her directly, though she fantasized that she could 141 feel his stares from the back of the class on occasion. For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. He did not look up, so he did not know that in her other hand she held a glass of wine. Had she too been flying from something and had accepted this method of escape? But what frying-pan could be equal to this fire? All this led him back to the original circle.
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