Part 4 Interpretation came pouring down upon her almost blindingly; she understood now the room, the waiter, the whole situation. There must be something behind the missioner's actions, something of which the girl knew nothing nor suspected. And yet—I love you. She stumbled through a thorny copse, her slippers sliding on patches of sand that gave way to rock. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. She throws a sort of spell over us all. Well, this is OUR thing. I do not love any one.
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