He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. “Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. A momentary petrifaction, and terror had lent wings to her feet. Mac—the old gossip—knew about everything going on in that part of the world; and if Enschede was anything up to the picture the girl had drawn, McClintock would have heard of him, naturally. ’ ‘Yes, but I’m hanged if I see what your game is. ‘But only think, Hilary,’ Lucy protested, evidently too involved in her theory to waste time in scolding. ” She shrugged her shoulders and led him towards a small recess. “What you have done.
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