Over the sea of heads arose a black and dismal object. “I’m sorry! Mary! Are you hurt?” “No. . “Thank God,” he exclaimed. That is what I don't understand. In that sense, my strategy worked. My sister was scarcely likely to make a mistake. If you had arrived ten minutes later, or if there hadn't been an iron bar in the chimney, that hindered my progress, I should have been beyond your reach. She cocked her head. 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.
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