go. ‘Now what?’ The girl’s voice was shaking, and there were, he saw now, angry tears in her eyes. McClintock, coming from below, saw them and went forward. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. Wood's dwelling,—a plain, substantial, commodious farm-house. John was acutely focused upon her now, just as she had wanted him to be. On weighing the matter over, he grew so uneasy that he resolved to descend, and inform him of his misgivings. She turned the television off. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. And yet, at the end of this prayer a subconscious thought broke through to consciousness.
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