"Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. ” “She’ll meet somebody one of these days—walking about like that. One comes at last to the step from dreams to reality. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. From time to time the man below would shout, and the boy would let the threads go with the snap of a harpist, only to recover them instantly.
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