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Bat Wing
that something in the tone of my voice had put her on her guard I could see.
“I am naturally curious,” I replied, gravely.
“No,” she repeated, “I have not heard the sound for some time now. Perhaps, after all, my fears were imaginary.”
There was a constraint in her manner which was all too obvious, and when presently, laden with the spoil of the rose garden, she gave me a parting smile and hurried into the house, I sat there very still for a while, and something of the brightness had faded from the morning, nor did life seem so glad a business as I had thought it quite recently.
