" "Never to return," remarked Jack, gloomily. She was herself conscious of a recklessness of spirits almost hysterical. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy. The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. “A very clear statement, madam,” he said. Wanted her out of the way because he had been afraid of her, afraid of himself! He, at fifty-four! Then into this void poured a flaming anger, a blind and unreasoning anger. By and by she heard the screen door. .
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