He seemed to have shrunken in his seat. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. So she took up Stevenson and began to read aloud. It’s not far from twilight. The hansom sped through the crowded streets. It’s all outside the world of your experience. The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple. “What’s wrong with having witchcraft books? Is she afraid that the Princeton Hill villagers will burn you at stake?” Lucy asked sarcastically. "I understand," replied the stranger, unable to repress a smile. Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers.
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