outrageously. She did not know where she was, and the evil presence holding the foul cup to her lips, and those other evil presences filling the background beyond gave her an intense apprehension.
Maw, however, in spite of a general air of obscenity, meant well. It was not easy for this fact to declare itself through that loud voice and ruthless mien; but gradually it began to percolate to June's violated nerves, and so gave her a fleck of courage to hold on to that sense of identity which still threatened at the first moment again to desert her.
"Where was you goin', deery?"
Rude the tone, but when June's ear disentangled the words, she was able to appreciate that they were spoken in the way of kindness. But if the knowledge brought a spark of comfort it was quickly dowsed. Where was she going? To that grim question there was no possible answer.
"Scared out of her life, poor lamb!" said Maw. With furtive truculence she announced the fact to the rather awed spectators who gathered once more about the sufferer.
"Where you come from?"
June's only answer was a shiver. The frozen silence was so full of the uncanny that Maw shook her own head dismally and tapped it with a grimy finger.
In the view of Maw, for such a calamity there was only one remedy. Once more the cup was pressed to June's lips; once more it was resisted, this time with a hint of fierceness reassuring to the onlookers, inasmuch that it implied a return of life.
"Looks respectable," said the cracked voice of the crone, who was now at Maw's elbow.
