270 “Curse that boy!” He chuckled and stomped the water. Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there. Oh, cuss it!” “Eh?” “He said I would. “And yet in a very few weeks I shall have done with it all. At any rate, here I am, and here I shall be, twenty thousand feet above all your poison-reeking cities, up where God’s wind comes fresh from heaven, very near indeed to the untrodden snows. From the first there had always been between her and her listeners that electrical sympathy which only a certain order of genius seems able to create. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. They don’t now. The books would be soaked and ruined in the rain anyway through the thin skin of the pack.
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