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“My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent. ’ The girl glanced up the road and turned back, annoyance in her face. He knew that tragedy was as blind as justice, that it struck the child and the grown-up impartially. Sebastian leapt down into the crypt. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. . He had gained admission somehow, and he too was waiting for Anna. She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. Mind, when we were all growed up, it were different.
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