“I don’t know and I don’t care. I didn’t invent this thing.... We’re just human, I suppose.”
Mrs. Levering’s voice could be heard calling for Mac. The two riotous young hearts beat violently at the sudden thought of detection; but they did not stir.
Fear shook her; if the mother had quietly opened the door before them and stared, in combined astonishment and indignation, Gorgas felt that she should be unable to get up. It was the sensation of dreams where we are about to be devoured by some hideous beast, yet can neither cry out nor move.
“Suppose mother should walk in that door!” she whispered. “That’s the way she always comes—from the house.”
“It’s locked,” he whispered back. There was no cause for the lower voice, save sheer excitement.
After a moment she asked, “How do you know?”
“I locked it myself.”
“When?”
“When she went out.... I slipped the bolt.... Let’s forget about it.”
From her silence he caught the need of making some defense.