He was, however, instantly beaten back; and the fury of the mob was so great that it was with difficulty he could effect a retreat. What could she do? Reluctantly, at a second curt command, she began to step across the uncarpeted floor, her eyes never leaving the threatening pistol. Katy’s face was vapid and undistinguishable from a crowd, but pretty in an abstract sense, like the face of a baby doll. She thrust at him, following, almost spitting him as he crashed against the altar, rocking the huge candlesticks and the vessels that stood on it. “She found my collection of witchcraft books under my bed and threw them away.
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