turned away--pretence of picking up her knitting--so terrible it was
to her to see in his eyes the very glimmer of hell itself as he
poured out what he "needed."

Minute after minute she sat there by the fire knitting tranquilly,
scarcely ever even lifting her calm young eyes to the man. Twice
again he poured out what he "needed" for himself before the agony in
his sickened brain and body became endurable--before the tortured
nerves had been sufficiently drugged once more and the indescribable
torment had subsided. He looked at her once or twice where she sat
knitting and apparently quite oblivious to what he had been about,
but his glance was no longer furtive; he unconsciously squared his
shoulders, and his head straightened up.

Without lifting her eyes she said: "I thought we'd talk over our
plans when you feel better."

He glanced sideways at the decanter: "I am all right," he said.

She had not yet lifted her eyes; she continued to knit while
speaking:

"First of all," she said, "I shall place your testimony and my
report in the hands of my superior, Mr. Vaux. Does that meet with
your approval?"

"Yes."

She knitted in silence a few moments. He kept his eyes on her.
Presently--and still without looking up--she said: "Are you within