Preparation was
possible, even if it was not much, and I sought by every means in my
power to gather up all the shreds of my courage, so that they might
together make a decent rope that would stand the strain when it came.
The strain would come, that was certain, and I was thoroughly well
aware--though for my life I cannot put into words the reasons for my
knowledge--that the massing of the material against us was proceeding
somewhere in the darkness with determination and a horrible skill
besides.
Shorthouse meanwhile talked without ceasing. The great quantity of hay
opposite--or straw, I believe it actually was--seemed to deaden the
sound of his voice, but the silence, too, had become so oppressive that
I welcomed his torrent and even dreaded the moment when it would stop. I
heard, too, the gentle ticking of my watch. Each second uttered its
voice and dropped away into a gulf, as if starting on a journey whence
there was no return. Once a dog barked somewhere in the distance,
probably on the Lower Farm; and once an owl hooted close outside and I
could hear the swishing of its wings as it passed overhead.
Pages:
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152