“Oh, I am lonely,” she moaned. ” They returned to the crypt. Ennison paused by the little gate. His room was last at the end of one winding corner. He often wanted only to drive with her in the car, both of them staring at the scenery in silence for hours. Somehow or other his reputation as a hardened and unassailable bachelor had won for him during the last few years a comparative immunity from attentions on the part of those women with whom he had been brought into contact. . ’ The lashes fluttered demurely. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava.
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