” She picked at her sandwich idly. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. ” “Well?” “Sir John came to me—that you know—and you can guess what I told him. There is the key. . "No, I shan't," replied Rachel, saucily. Then, when the tension was getting unendurable, and she was on the verge of speaking to some casual passer-by and demanding help, her follower vanished. You must have figured that out by now. She was drawn first by Miss Miniver, and then by her own natural interest, into a curious stratum of people who are busied with dreams of world progress, of great and fundamental changes, of a New Age that is to replace all the stresses and disorders of contemporary life. Like a nightmare memory that returned again and again to haunt her.
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