She fell into a deep delirium, whispering hoarsely to her dead mother, cursing God in Heaven, cursing her doctor, cursing herself as apparitions of devils and demons pulled at her with yellow ochre hands. In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire. Wild had escaped. The acid of this incertitude had disintegrated his nerve; and in Canton had come the smash. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. ’ A tiny giggle escaped her, and she lowered the pistol a trifle. The popcorn dwindled to a half a bucket, his heart settled into its normal routine. “Good-bye, John,” she said simply. ’ Mrs Prudence Sindlesham, a widow of several years’ standing, so she told Gerald, was a scarecrow of a female, long and lank of limb in a figure that had once been willowy. ’ Still no response. She is not in the least like the descriptions of her. At least here she was safe.
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