The Well Hole 336 XIII. What could I do at home? The other’s a crumple-up—just surrender. \" Michelle was becoming upset, and her voice took on a tone of sarcasm. They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit. She was a lone white woman, therefore marked. Presently, however, a sudden movement occurred, and disclosed his features, which were those of a young man of nearly his own age. Throwing down the pencil, she snatched up a piece of India-rubber, and exclaiming,—"It isn't at all like him! it isn't half handsome enough!" was about to efface the sketch, when Thames darted into the room. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town.
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