It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. " He rose for fear she might touch him again. Run along now; but return in half an hour. I tried painting and couldn’t get on. Her sensitive ears could hear her foster mother snoring in front of the television. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. But Jack was too nimble for him. She was only a few yards from the door, but lacked the courage to rise and fly. All the sombre visions she had been pressing back, fighting out of her thoughts, swarmed over the barrier and crushed her.
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