I'm not quite such a greenhorn as Shotbolt, Jack, whatever you may think. I give myself to you. ” She tried to plan her proceedings in detail. “Tell your sister she was right to shoot, quite right. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. Wood had the advantage of her husband in point of years, being on the sunny side of forty,—a period pronounced by competent judges to be the most fascinating, and, at the same time, most critical epoch of woman's existence,—whereas, he was on the shady side of fifty,—a term of life not generally conceived to have any special recommendation in female eyes. Why is the door fastened? Open it directly!" "Are you alone?" asked Jack, mimicking the voice of Kneebone.
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