. 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. She put a stool for him at a little distance from her own, and after he had seen the day’s work he hesitated, and then plunged into a resumption of their discussion about beauty. There was granite in her face and agate in her eyes. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands. " And thus their domesticity at McClintock's began—with the tubbing of a stray yellow dog. I made a wrong choice, it seems—but my voice remains.
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