The little man watched its pendulum-like action too. He did not seem to like the curious slow swing of it, or the look upon the face of the swinger, for he withdrew a pace or two.
"Any more of it," said the girl, her voice deep and vibrating, "and I'll tell Mr. Trupp."
The name struck Ernie's subconsciousness with the disturbing effect of a pebble dropped into a still pool. Ripples spread over the torpid surface of his mind, rousing it in ever-growing circles to life. The view was dissolving with extraordinary speed. It remained the same and yet was entirely changed. The play was becoming real....
The little man was now walking swiftly away along the tow-path. Suddenly he turned and came back a pace or two, his hand out.
The woman had not stirred. She stood bare-headed on the river-bank, one foot on a twisted root, one knee bent.
"Give me back my letter," said the man. "And I'll let it go at that."
She met him squarely.
"That I wun't then!"
The little man hesitated and then turned about.
Ernie came to himself with a pop, as a man comes to the surface after long submersion in the deeps.