She looked at him as he fingered a small switch on the side of the helicopter’s door. "And now," he continued, sternly, "was it your master who has just ridden by?" "No," answered Quilt, sullenly. ” “But your dinner!” she protested. ” She turned and fitted the latchkey into the door. He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him. The fatal shower, from which he and his little charge escaped uninjured, had stricken his assailant and precipitated him into the boiling gulf. She helped herself to the remainder of the slightly congealed bacon, and reverted to the problem of getting her luggage out of the house.
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