He had not taken many steps when he perceived Quilt Arnold in the upper gallery, with a lamp in his hand. He could lose himself for hours at a time. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work. After all there are other things. He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him. As she came in this morning she saw that the lamp was still burning in the study; so she stopped at the door. Blueskin goes with me.
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