" Bamboo and bead tinkled and slithered behind him. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. It was hard to resist. ‘I know,’ said Prudence Sindlesham, sympathy in her tone. "Jack!" Her son averted his gaze. She found a clean sweatshirt and soft pajama pants, glad to trade the wet for the dry. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. ’ She saw the weapon wrenched from Emile’s hand and he dropped to the bench of the pew and sat there, grasping helplessly at the welling blood on his arm.
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