“Do you want to ruin me? I shall walk back. When he found himself thinking about it, it upset him so that he at once resorted to distraction. "If you thought that, why did you give me this job?"—his voice faint and thick. The tail-ender of this little caravan, he had been rather out of it. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. Her curiosity was insatiable, her dreams filled with happy speculation over what hair color her babies would inherit. They used the rope—not that a rope was at all necessary, but because Ann Veronica’s exalted state of mind made the fact of the rope agreeably symbolical; and, anyhow, it did insure a joint death in the event of some remotely possibly mischance.
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