‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield. Then, though full of confidence, he half doubted his power of accomplishing his designs. He had, he felt, to create certain ideas and vivify certain curiosities and feelings in her. The pouting cherry lips were slightly parted and the very faintest of panting breaths, together with the quick rise and fall of an alluring bosom, betrayed her fear. This was irregular. Just as I might have killed another, if he had come out. The small Diedermayer clan was a captive audience. I would not have him know—now—for the world. To-morrow I shall come and talk to you again—of other things.
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