By and by he ventured to peer into this window. She felt that perhaps, in her desire to play an adequate part in the conversation, she had talked rather more freely than she ought to have done, and given him a wrong impression of herself. It was like pouring a strong acid over dulled metal. He read "The Beachcombers" to McClintock that night after coffee; and when he had done, the old trader nodded. Then they would leave and she would go back to being alone. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. "The night before last, Mr. Her recent attitude towards him was undoubtedly a pose. She looked steadfastly out. I've an excellent memory, thank God! And I perfectly remember that everybody was drowned upon that occasion—except yourself and the child!" "My love you're beside yourself—" "I was beside myself to take charge of your—" "Mother?" interposed Winifred. There was a pause, and then the front door slammed.
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