Their features were visible to
each other, though now and then the fog would shift between the rustic
chairs in which they sat. Julian Bayne laughed. How easily even now did
this woman convert every casual acquaintance into an eager partisan!
"If she is growing sensitive for her cruelties to me, I am apprehensive
that it may be in her mind to make amends. I should keep away from
her--discretion being the better part of valor."
Briscoe drew back with an air of averse distaste. He spoke guardedly,
however, remembering that he was in his own house and fearful of going
too far; yet he could not let this pass. "You surprise me, Julian. I
never imagined _you_ could say anything so--so--caddish."
"Why don't you say 'currish' and be done with it?" Julian's eyes flashed
fire. His face had flushed deeply red. Every muscle was tense, alert.
Then he checked himself hastily. He turned his cigar in his hand and
looked intently at it as he reflected that this woman had already done
harm enough in his life.
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