‘Lover’s tiff indeed. You are the High Priestess of Life. She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. ’ ‘Comment? How will it serve you to kill me?’ ‘I do not need to kill you. It was you, of course, whom he wanted. . A chill rain thrummed against the sides of John’s car, having slowed from deluge to steady patter, the snow was 158 dissolved where it lay. The door of cabin 2 was open. I have not found the secret way into the house, for instance. He was snoring stupidly.
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