Miss Klegg and the youngest girl made a vigorous attack on Miss Garvice, who had said she thought women lost something infinitely precious by mingling in the conflicts of life. “There was a man called Montague Hill,” she said hoarsely, “but he is dead. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. It came into her head with real emotional force that this must be some particularly fantastic sort of dream. I wouldn’t even have to use very much gasoline. " "The woman I mean did not join the assault," rejoined the Master, "but rather seemed to shun observation; and, from the hasty glimpse I caught of her, she appeared to have a child in her arms. From his wallet he brought forth a yellow letter.
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