" Trenchard, meanwhile, whose gaze was fixed upon the boy, became livid as death, but he moved not a muscle. He gave her one of the sweaty red cans. She shut her lips hard, her jaw hardened, and she set herself to struggle with him. The poor old imbecile! Why, this child was a firebrand, a wrecker, if ever he had seen one; and the worst kind because she was unconscious of her gifts. ‘That way. We were two people with a craving. Wood. To appreciate it you should try rooms. Supposing the wire should break and her head tumble off her shoulders into the street? The whimsey caused another smile to ripple across her lips.
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