” Chapter XIX “THIS IS NOT THE END” “I said some afternoon,” she remarked, throwing open her warm coat, and taking off her gloves, “but I certainly did not mean to-day. 155 The ringing doorbell jarred her from her stupor. "It is her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me. ” “I’ll frame it—when I get it. I wasn’t. "And Jack?" "Gone too," sobbed his daughter. A chill rain thrummed against the sides of John’s car, having slowed from deluge to steady patter, the snow was 158 dissolved where it lay. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. After all, Hilary must be near returned by now. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it.
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