She put a stool for him at a little distance from her own, and after he had seen the day’s work he hesitated, and then plunged into a resumption of their discussion about beauty. It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered. The door crashed back against the wall inside and both men hurtled into the room, weapons at the ready—and stopped dead. Because of the Dance. “The women are taking it up,” said Miss Miniver; “the women and the common people, all pressing forward, all roused. Their conversation was conducted in the flash language, and, though unintelligible to Wood, was easily comprehended by this companion, who learnt, to her dismay, that the wounded man had received his hurt from her son, whose courage and dexterity formed the present subject of their discourse.
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