He looked at her, hurt. He dodged the boot this time, and smashed his left upon the Wastrel's lips, leaving them bloody pulp. “So Brendon and I,” he said, “have been troubled with the same fears. “I am so sorry. “My God!” he said at last, with tremendous feeling, and then again, “My God!” Now that this thing was said her mind was clear and calm. In a second the glass lay shattered upon the carpet. Sometimes she missed her cue and nodded affirmatively when the gesture should have been the reverse; and Prudence would send her a sharp glance of disapproval.
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