He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder. To-morrow I shall come and talk to you again—of other things. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. . They could not go on. 92 She did not notice the police car sitting near the Beck house until they were pulling into the driveway. She began to read, and presently she entered another world, and remained in it for two hours. “You know of no one likely to have had a grudge against this man?” he asked.
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