This was David Courtlaw, whose ways, too, had never been very different from the ways of other men as regards her sex. Presently the odour of burnt powder mingled agreeably with that of the incense. ‘He is not in England, you understand. How could she tell him of the evil that drew her and drew her, as a needle to the magnet?—the fascinating evil that even now, escaped as it was, went on distilling its poison in her mind? "Yes, yes!" said the doctor. No, none at all. In spite of God and wasps and her father, she had stolen plums; and once because of discovered misdeeds, and once because she had realized that her mother was dead, she had lain on her face in the unmown grass, beneath the elmtrees that came beyond the vegetables, and poured out her soul in weeping.
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