’ She shook her head. It was a great weight from her shoulders to confide in another human being, and she suspected he did truly believe her. For the present the desire to fly was gone. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. Yet he stays. Her eyes were lit with a gleam of humour. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. I don’t want you to be sad. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. The other lay unconscious in a heap. CHAPTER XXII.
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