She had traversed perhaps three bookshelves, passed across the door that must lead to the hall, turned the corner, and was just about to reach the fireplace when she abruptly became aware that something under her fingers had felt wrong. Her heart failed her and her resolution became water. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. He seemed to possess infinite reserves of patience when she refused him or purposely tried to bait and anger him, but his patience only made him seem more sinister. At noon the doctor himself arrived. We're to be given a treat to-night.
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