Books for you

They were the enemy, they had got hold of him.
"When I asked you if you were alone you pretended to be angry," she
remembered with a flash. "You said, 'Do I tell lies?'"
"I WAS alone. Until-- It was an accident. On my walk I was
alone."
But he flinched before her accusing, her almost triumphant,
forefinger.
From the instant she heard of them she hated these South Harting
people unrestrainedly. She made no attempt to conceal it. Her
valiant bantam spirit caught at this quarrel as a refuge from the
rare and uncongenial ache of his secession. "And who are they?
What are they? What sort of people can they be to drag in a passing
young man? I suppose this girl of theirs goes out every evening--
Was she painted, Poff?"
She whipped him with her questions as though she was slashing his
face. He became dead-white and grimly civil, answering every
question as though it was the sanest, most justifiable inquiry.
"Of course I don't know who they are. How should I know? What need
is there to know?"
"There are ways of finding out," she insisted.


Pages:
242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259 260 261 262 263 264 265 266