’ ‘Get rid of the wench,’ Roding said brutally. There was a look in her eyes which puzzled him. They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit. The theme was a masquerade. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. He staggered back a few paces; and, before he could recover himself, Thames tripped up his heels, and, placing the point of the spike at his throat, threatened to stab him if he attempted to stir, or cry out.
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