"I have nothing to forgive. ” She nodded in the affirmative. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. Why was he there? why did the tempter dare to invade that sacred spot! She could not answer her own questions, but vague fearful suspicions passed through her mind. There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor. Wood was heard without, angrily demanding admittance. He did not know—and probably never would unless she told him—that it was very easy (and comfortable for a woman) to fall into slatternly ways in this latitude. The effects of the heroin wore off slowly. . Swiftly following the sound of knocking, she crossed right and passed through a door near the windows—and found herself in the bookroom.
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