She had never before heard the noise of firecrackers, and in the beginning the sputtering racket caused her to wince. “Why?” he asked, suavely. His heart was beating, but faintly and slowly, with ominous intermissions. He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. But once he had steered the lady down the hall and along a passage to a window seat at the end, he abandoned the subject of society. ’ He stared at the point, glanced at the fallen sword imprisoned by her foot, and only just looked back at her weapon in time to see it thrust at him again. That was the wonder of these stories; one lived in them. ’ Mrs Prudence Sindlesham, a widow of several years’ standing, so she told Gerald, was a scarecrow of a female, long and lank of limb in a figure that had once been willowy.
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