” He played it cool, but he had seen it in her face. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. I shall still believe in you. ” He said mischievously. On reflection, it occurred to him that he might, perhaps, be able to loosen the iron fillet; a notion no sooner conceived than executed. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. "We shall meet again ere long, my son," cried Mrs. ’ Fury was in her face. If the creator drew a hero anything like himself, she would accept it as a sign that he did care a little. The rainstorm, short-lived, began to subside.
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