By the Lord, I wish you'd been with us going down the
hill this morning!"
No shame, no downward head, no remorse. And he was subtly and strangely
changed. She could not put the difference into words. But his eye seemed
larger and brighter--it was no longer possible for her to look deeply
into it, as she had done so easily the night before. And there were other
differences.
He held his head in a more lordly fashion. About every movement there was
a singular ease and precision. He walked with a lighter step and with a
catlike softness almost as odd as that of Denver. His step had been light
before, but it was not like this. But through him and about him there was
an air of uneasy, alert happiness--as of one who steals a few perfect
moments, knowing that they will not be many. A great pity welled in her,
and a great anger. It was the anger which showed.
"Terry Hollis, what have you done? You're lookin' me in the eye, but you
ought to be hangin' your head. You've done murder! Murder! Murder!"
She let the three words ring through the room like three blows, cutting
the talk to silence. And all save Terry seemed moved.
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