"Not a moment is to be lost," cried Jack: "follow me. Part of his head was swathed in linen bandages. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. She was nearly dead. He seemed to charge her with the ruin of their situation. It seemed as if each time her imagination reached out investingly, an invisible lash beat it back. Each wing had a small cupola; and, in the centre of the pile rose a larger dome, surmounted by a gilded ball and vane. At length she hit upon it: bubbling water. ” 174 < 21 > THANKSGIVING She padded softly up the old stairs, exhausted and elated. ‘Again you seek to interfere in my affairs?’ ‘I did warn you I had every intention of doing so,’ said Gerald. For she needed him.
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