This, Wood, acting upon Terry's caution, was most unwilling to do; but, finding he had no alternative, he reluctantly made known his errand and the bolts were undrawn. Sensing his discomfort, she stood up and brushed lint off of the hem of her gray miniskirt. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. But he was so feeble, that it seemed scarcely possible he could offer any effectual resistance in case of an attack. A little Madeira seemed to recover her enough to resume the discussion. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath. There’s plenty to be got out of life in a decent sort of way. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. But what he could do or might do she could not imagine. “How are you feeling?” She asked.
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