I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. Clotilde flew into a rage, crying, “How dare you lay claim to my children! I am their mother! This is a Godless house!” She accused. Speak lower. But these fears, like those he had recently experienced, speedily vanished, and he prepared to return to the roof, congratulating himself that owing to the opportune falling of the bricks, he had in all probability escaped serious injury. “Thank you,” he said, “for letting me back. ’ She saw suspicion darken his gaze. His eyes were bright, and his voice had in it an unaccustomed timbre. “They seem to come to you as naturally as disappointment—to other people. Listen to me, Winifred.
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