" Meanwhile, the party at the table continued drinking and chatting as merrily as before. It's mighty lonesome down there for a man bred to cities. "Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?"—serenely. Spurlock had sensed what had gone completely over McClintock's head—that this was the playing of a soul in damnation. He would come swiftly to her aid, she knew it. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. “What do you think of that farce?” he exclaimed bitterly. I do not wish to seek them out, en effet. Alors, one must steel oneself.
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