“What of her? Have you quarrelled with her?” The girl shook her head. What else was there lurked in shadows and deep places; if in some mood of reverie it came out into the light, it was presently overwhelmed and hustled back again into hiding. ‘You do not believe me?’ ‘I do not. What could I do at home? The other’s a crumple-up—just surrender. She turned to Martha as the lad exited by the back door, but her nurse forestalled anything she might have said. I can’t forget about your sister. But she did not know what he knew, that it would always be rolling up, enlivened by suggestion, no matter how trifling. ” The detective thrust his notebook into his pocket. She waited expectantly.
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