It was just a chance that we in particular hit against each other—nothing predestined about it. “Do you know,” she confessed, “I never thought of that?” He looked at her as though doubting even now whether she could possibly be in earnest. Jackson had one of the ugliest countenances imaginable, he had a very fine set of teeth. He regretted— more deeply than he could say—the occurrence of this evening. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared.
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