But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands. ” He seemed to be elaborating ideas as he talked. He stepped quickly towards her. ’ ‘Who was to know if you would find your place?’ countered Martha. Sheppard wildly. It was you, of course, whom he wanted. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. One wants helpers and protectors—and clean water.
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