A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. Unmindful of the terrors of the night, unscared by the danger that threatened him, Rowland consigned his sister's husband and his sister's child to the waves. Joyous, she felt the need of physical expression; and her body began to sway sinuously, to glide and turn and twist about the room. The will to live had returned. . She peered into the darkness. Clarice loved babies as much as Lucia did and chattered about them day and night. “Bother it all!” she swore.
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