She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered. Wood, you shan't lord it over me, I can promise you. They then clambered over a hedge, and scaling another wall, got into the garden at the back of the house. Still—” Then, with incredible and obviously deliberate stupidity, and a voice as flat as her own, he asked, “Who is the man?” Her spirit raged within her at the dumbness, the paralysis that had fallen upon her. Joyous, she felt the need of physical expression; and her body began to sway sinuously, to glide and turn and twist about the room. She tried to be casual. The pieces fell to the ground in a little white shower. And if he won’t—” But she did not give even unspoken words to the alternative at that time.
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