She bound a scarf tightly round the place where the blood seemed to be coming from. It was not for a week or a month. At last, he got into a lane, but had not proceeded far when he was again alarmed by the sound of a horse's tread. It came again. She bent down. The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. "Fool!" he cried, "do you think I wouldn't have secured you before this if I hadn't some motive for my forbearance?" "And that motive is fear," replied Jack contemptuously.
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