She fought a compulsive urge to yank his shirt free. When, by slow and toilsome efforts, he had arrived midway, something obstructed his further progress. And a ballot-box—” Her face assumed an expression of intellectual conflict. She did not know herself. Wood. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. He flung aside all his talk of help and disinterested friendship as though it had never been even a disguise between them, as though from the first it was no more than a fancy dress they had put quite understandingly upon their relationship. I have been imaging—” “Mr. ” He turned upon her almost fiercely. “You are certain of this.
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