. ’ A peal of delighted laughter greeted this threat. It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand. The horror of those few minutes was still with her. “And some of them quite pretty and well dressed. Wanted her out of the way because he had been afraid of her, afraid of himself! He, at fifty-four! Then into this void poured a flaming anger, a blind and unreasoning anger. Manning,” she said, “for a time—Will you tell no one? Will you keep this—our secret? I’m doubtful—Will you please not even tell my aunt?” “As you will,” he said. He was all alone, too. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room.
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