The crowning aspect of the incident, for her mind, was the discovery that he and her indiscretion with him no longer mattered very much. He was almost frightening in silhouette, his hair uncontrollable under the best of circumstances, but that changed when you saw his face. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. The fire still burned brightly. ‘Signed by a priest at Le Havre, so it must be true. ’ For a moment or two there was dead silence in the parlour. Wood, Sir," he added, with much emotion, "is one of the best of men, and would be the happiest, were it not that—" and he hesitated.
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