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But we can’t help noticing. They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes. They were followed by Jonathan, who carried a stout stick under his arm, and planted himself near the stone. The necessity which had previously existed of leaving the ghastly evidence of the murderous deed undisturbed,—the presence of the mangled corpse,—the bustle of the inquest, at which her attendance was required,—all these circumstances produced a harrowing effect upon the young girl's imagination. "He will be murdered!—Help!" "My child!—my love!" cried Wood, dragging her forcibly back. Then she slowly straightened, releasing him. “You cannot! Oh, you cannot.
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