Her heart in her mouth, she heard his foot scrape on the floorboard and knew from his expression that Gosse had heard it too. An old man and a young girl, the one as stubbornly offensive as the other. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. And now you must go back, take up your work and think all this over. She shook her head. Here, turnkey. Whence she came,—who she was,—and what she wanted,—were questions which naturally suggested themselves to Blueskin, and he was about to seek for some explanation, when his curiosity was checked by a gesture of silence from the lady. She bought her Greyhound ticket one steamy afternoon when school let out at eleven thirty A.
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