Gerald’s temper flared. Gerald watched its approach with vague interest, which quickened when he saw that it was drawing up outside the very house out of which he had just stepped. “Some of them seem to be having an awfully good time too. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. Go, and let him in. “If one half of the stories about Meysey Hill are true,” he answered, “I would not stretch out my little finger to save his life. His shouts for help were answered by roars of mockery and laughter. I'll talk to her in the morning, but she won't understand what I'm driving at. He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger. Manning regarded her thoughtfully for a moment and stroked his mustache.
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