But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue. "I'm tired of the life I'm leading. . His suspicions at first fell upon you. I could see his little animal brain churning away, inventing plans for me, formulating his revenge. " "Thank you! thank you!" faltered Jack, in a voice full of emotion.
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