Even now she could trace the outline of his shape behind the left-hand curtain. "Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. Lucy had been ignoring her, not purposefully, but noticeably. Once more breaking through the hedge he took to the fields. Now do you see his motive?" "I see nothing but your danger," replied his mother, tenderly. He did not even reply to her for several minutes. She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor. The echo of those kindly words seemed still to ring in her ears. His glance came up again and met hers. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. He was even a little jealous of Sebastian.
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