" "Murder him!" cried Trenchard shuddering. " "What is this to me, Sir?" said Trenchard, cutting him short. By a tacit agreement they ignored the significant thing between them, ignored the slipping away of the ground on which they had stood together hitherto. He seemed to have expected them. These were presently joined by a regiment of foot. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. But I’m thinking as how I’d best report to the major over this here shooting.
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