Listening on the dimlit landing, he saw Roding’s face muscles tighten. “It’s the stir of spring,” he said. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. “I suppose delusions are not uncommon to patients in his condition. “It’s settled. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. She felt the whack from about six feet away, kitty corner. .
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