" "You may see the marks on the child yourself, if you choose, Sir," urged the widow. She was nearly too giddy still to answer him. You will survive, mark my words. “Forgive me,” he said. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. ’ It seems that I was mistaken. Are you satisfied?’ Grudgingly, Jack Kimble took back the coins. They pressed more insistently, forcing her lips open. Wood rushed instantly to meet them. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. “These are the playgrounds of life.
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