“Very well,” she would say, “then I must go. Wood—" "That's false!" cried a voice behind him. ‘Yes, but I’m probably chasing moonbeams. “My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. It’s a tremendous blow, of course—but it doesn’t kill me. What had actually beaten him was not to have known if someone had picked up his trail. She was furiously angry. A woman isn’t much freer—in reality. She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue.
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