Martha had not been pleased to find her spare one borrowed for that expedition when the major had found her outside the ballroom. He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. Capes had the gift of easy, unaffected writing, coupled with very clear and logical thinking, and to follow his written thought gave her the sensation of cutting things with a perfectly new, perfectly sharp knife. “Tell him to drive—anywhere,” she exclaimed. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.
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