Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. He was always visualizing the Hand whenever he let his gaze rest upon the horizon. “I can get very angry. You shirk a straightforward and decent return for what you get from us— taking refuge in purity and delicacy and such-like when it comes to payment. ” Brendon hesitated for a moment. He said daring things with a grace which made them irresistible, his eyes flashed back upon her some eloquent but silent appreciation of the change in her manner towards him.
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