270 “Curse that boy!” He chuckled and stomped the water. ’ ‘In a way she had been,’ said Prudence. . The fates are never so kind to me. She gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again. She closed her eyes more vividly to recall some line which had carried the blot. She stood on the mat instead, and looked down on him. "What's all this?" exclaimed Wood in amazement. “To tell you the truth, it has seemed just lately as though we were becoming in some measure estranged.
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