‘That is good,’ she said with satisfaction, ‘for I was compelled on Saturday to abandon the chase. They turned off at Glen Grove, a sleepy town of less than two hundred. But she made no answer. As he anticipated, he was here comparatively screened from the fury of the wind; and when he gazed upon the roaring fall beneath him, visible through the darkness in a glistening sheet of foam, his heart overflowed with gratitude for his providential deliverance. She fought him at first, screaming at him, but he did not relent. She would not sleep for fear of losing a moment of that sense of his proximity. ” Inwardly, she laughed at the idea of him trying to beat on her, flailing, his arms akimbo. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self.
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