. When Sheila was in a good mood, one almost enjoyed her. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. The first stroke appeared to arouse all the vindictive passions of Jonathan. Her momentary instinct was to run to him and be comforted, like the old times. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house. If he could keep it up—style and calibre of imagination—within a year the name of Taber would become widely known.
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