\" She replied. ’ She had given nothing away. “Slavery! Downtroddenness! When I think of it I feel all over boot marks— men’s boots. ‘Don’t try to turn it off,’ ordered Miss Froxfield. A long chest under one of the windows was open, some of its contents dragged out and spilling onto the floor. She alone of them all knew that he was on the first leg of the terrible journey to the beach. She became aware that at regular intervals a light flashed upon her face and a bodiless eye regarded her, and this, as the night wore on, became a torment.
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