” “Perhaps,” she said, “I am superstitious. Anything in the least irregular is like poison to him. There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited. Presently she became aware of footsteps hurrying after her, and glanced back to find Miss Klegg, a little out of breath, in pursuit. ’ Fire enveloped Charvill’s mind and he brought up his cane, pointed like a musket. And think things out. Very slowly, very fearfully, she turned her head. I was just like a sort of dummy that does things as it is told—that is to say, as the strings are pulled. "Choose between good and evil;— between him and me. .
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