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. " "Shall we do so?" whispered Winifred to her father. She used his own gun against him, a method that was occasionally cleaner than slitting throats when she got it right. It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. God, Lucy, that’s the stuff people wear to Phys. "Mr.
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