Then she rose. She was shivering again.
“I think we’d better go now.”
“But we haven’t been here a half-hour,” he protested.
“We’ve been here quite a long while,” she answered. “Please, I want to go home now.”
CHAPTER XXI
IN THE DARK
An hour or so later Miss Winthrop lay in her bed, where, with the door tight locked and the gas out, she could feel just the way she felt like feeling and it was nobody’s business. She cried because she wished to cry. She cried because it was the easiest and most satisfactory way she knew of relieving the tenseness in her throat. She burrowed her face in the pillow and cried hard, and then turned over on her pig-tails and sobbed awhile. It did not make any difference, here in the dark, whether the tears made lines down her face or not––whether or not they made her eyes red, and, worst of all, her nose red.