I got myself locked up to cool off. It was a bogus affair altogether, kept by some blackguard or other of an Englishman. The necessity of defending herself and assuming a confident and secure tone did much to dispell the sense of being exposed and indefensible in a huge dingy world that abounded in sinister possibilities. If it came at all, it was as fleeting as the girl's smile. Not a word passed between them. Wood's reception of the widow, who, at that moment, was ushered into the room by Winifred, was not particularly kind and encouraging. But how close? She glanced about at the shrouded furnishings for possible cover. This was the first young man who had drawn from her something more than speculative interest. "I am no murderer," replied Sheppard. But if only you will come I do not care. She was aware of people—her aunt, her father, her fellow-students, friends, and neighbors— moving about outside this glowing secret, very much as an actor is aware of the dim audience beyond the barrier of the footlights. He looked like an animated skeleton that someone had hung a smelly 105 brown beard upon.
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