Her scream shook the windows of the sedan. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. Then she cursed herself for his eyes went to the letter and came back to her face. The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell. She was an indignant queen, no doubt she was alarmed and disgusted within limits; but she was highly excited, and there was something, some low adventurous strain in her being, some element, subtle at least if base, going about the rioting ways and crowded insurgent meeting-places of her mind declaring that the whole affair was after all—they are the only words that express it—a very great lark indeed. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1. There are also the letters which were scattered about Wild's room after the murder of Sir Rowland.
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