She treaded down the hall swiftly but stopped abruptly when she heard a voice in back of her. ‘No sense in snooping about down here,’ Gerald whispered. I will confide it to Father Spencer, who will acquaint you with it when I am no more. 238 < 30 > IN BED John drove her home after school nearly every day. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. He ignored her protests in order to pursue some impressive line of his own. I thought—the papers said——” “You thought that I was dead,” he interrupted. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. ’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. Gerald exchanged a puzzled glance with his friend. The sounds of the seashore infiltrated her dreams as she floated in heavenly bliss of sleep. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. And who is the man you are not allowed to marry? Valade, perhaps?’ ‘Dieu du ciel,’ exclaimed the girl, jumping up.
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