out why. S'long."




CHAPTER 7


Every moment was bringing on the dawn more swiftly, and the eyes of Andy
were growing more accustomed to the gloom in the house. He found the
door of the girl's room at once. When he entered he had only to pause a
moment before he had all the details clearly in mind. Other senses than
that of sight informed him in her room. There was in the gray gloom a
touch of fragrance such as blows out of gardens across a road; yet here
the air was perfectly quiet and chill. The dawn advanced. But all that
he could make out was a faint touch of color againt the pillow--and that
would be her hair. Then with astonishing clearness he saw her hand
resting against her breast. Andy stood for a moment with his eyes
closed, a great tenderness falling around him. The hush kept deepening,
and the sense of the girl drew out to him as if a light were brightening
about her.

He stepped back to the table against the wall, took the chimney from the
lamp, and flicked a match along his trousers, for in that way a match
would make the least noise. Yet to the hair-trigger nerves of Andy the
spurt and flare of the match was like the explosion of a gun. He lighted
the lamp, turned down the wick, and replaced the chimney. Then he turned
as though someone had shouted behind him. He whirled as he had whirled
in the hall, crouching, and he found himself looking straight into the
eyes of the girl as she sat up in bed.