But Miss Pinckney did.
“Listen,” said she. “You know what I told you about Richard and Frances Rhett—that’s all done with. He has broken off the engagement.”
Phyl flushed, then she hid her burning face on Miss Pinckney’s shoulder.
Miss Pinckney held her for awhile. Then she began to talk.
“We will get right back to-morrow early; no one knows anything and I’ll take care they never do. Well, it’s strange—I can understand everything but I can’t understand that crazy creature. What’s become of him? That’s what I want to know.”
This is what had become of him.
Kneeling beside Phyl the sudden sharp pain just above his instep made him turn. In turning he caught a glimpse of his assailant. It had been creeping towards the door when he entered and had taken refuge beneath the straw. He had almost knelt on it. Escaping, a movement of his foot had raised its anger and it had struck, it was now whisking back into the darkness of the cabin beyond the straw heap.
He recognised it as the deadliest snake in the South.
For a moment he recognised nothing else but the fact that he had been bitten.