In each pause she could sense his growing trepidation. Running to Gosse, she seized the portrait from his hand and lashed out, taking him off guard, so that he staggered back and fell against the card table. He reached for her and she stroked his head soothingly as his mother had done a few times when he had suffered bad fevers. Ramage. To the poor carpenter it seemed an endless distance. The thought allured him, and therein lay the danger. They agreed to lend her their hold-all and a large, formless bag which they called the communal trunk. He was always anticipating, stepping into the future, torturing himself with non-existent troubles.
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