Their conversation was conducted in the flash language, and, though unintelligible to Wood, was easily comprehended by this companion, who learnt, to her dismay, that the wounded man had received his hurt from her son, whose courage and dexterity formed the present subject of their discourse. Was there anything at all in those locked rooms of her aunt’s mind? Were they fully furnished and only a little dusty and cobwebby and in need of an airing, or were they stark vacancy except, perhaps, for a cockroach or so or the gnawing of a rat? What was the mental equivalent of a rat’s gnawing? The image was going astray. “What ought you to do?” “I’ve hunted up all sorts of things. Springing to his feet in an ecstasy of terror, he stumbled, and had well nigh realized his worst apprehensions. But I’m not a slut either, if that’s what you think. One wants helpers and protectors—and clean water. ” “He only heard this afternoon,” Sydney continued. She was very pale, but she reminded him more at that minute than at any time of “Alcide” as he had first known her. She saw marks in the dirt where he had been pacing. Was he, too, on the way to the beach? What a pity! All alone, and none to warn him of the abject wretchedness at the end of Drink. Stanley as they drew alongside, to account for his own ruffled and heated expression. The delay was only momentary. And the change, the change of attitude! The way all the old clingingness has been thrown aside is amazing.
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