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She hesitated, and for a moment thought of omitting her second verse altogether. " "You…. From McClintock's came an infernal tinkletinkle, tump-tump! There was no composing with such a sound hammering upon the ear. But I’m going to-day. He played variations on this theme for the better part of an hour. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. It ran in rivulets down her face, penetrating her hood and the thick quilting of her coat. “Now listen. "Thanks," he said, holding out a thin white hand. On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. “I mean REALLY independent. Nobody ever called me John, that I recollect. ” The doors at the other end of the hall opened. Where is Father Spencer? I must have absolution.
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