” The topic of his invalid wife bored him, and he turned at once to Ann Veronica. “You poor thing. ’ His friend held it out of the way. Rain pounded the tin roof, and waterfalls obscured the pavilion into its own private 91 chamber. Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph. It was also cold, and dark, for there had been no time to light the lantern. She turned the television off. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. She recovered herself, however, with amazing facility.
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