"Cease your confounded clutter!" said a young man, whose swarthy visage, seen in the torchlight, struck Wood as being that of a Mulatto. ‘You don’t mind if I sit down?’ She considered him a moment, her head a little on one side. Moreover, atrociously and inexorably, he allowed it to appear ever and again in horrible gleams that he suspected there was some man in the case. Her mind developed into savage wrath at the present conditions of a woman’s life. “I—I didn’t love the man I was engaged to,” she said. So while he talked to this girl of work and freedom, his slightly protuberant eyes were noting the gracious balance of her limbs and body across the gate, the fine lines of her chin and neck.
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