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So she said: “I won’t come home. The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple. ’ ‘What are you about now, child?’ demanded Martha apprehensively. Sheppard found it; and, as no one opposed her, she at once took up her abode there; nor was she long in discovering that the dreaded sounds proceeded from the nocturnal gambols of a legion of rats. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. “Let go!” she gasped at him, a blaze of anger.
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