For two weary hours, Betty sat up in bed lest sleep should overcome her, and Noll miss his rouse. And brooding there, her chin on her knees, her sorry vigil dragged through the laggard minutes.
As the clocks struck six across the city’s roofs, she crept out of bed and roused Noll; and he, after much rousing, got up, vague-eyed and wit-wandering, embraced her, and, searching for his hat, put it on and lurched out of the room in a drowsy daze.
Betty reeled from the cruelty—stumbled—and was overwhelmed with sickness.
CHAPTER LXV
Wherein Betty walks into the Desert
Betty was dressed for a journey.
On the floor, near the table whereat she sat writing a letter, lay a battered old black trunk, strapped and labelled.
The day was chilly grey without.