Did he wish me to go near to him? I was peeling potatoes. Did I give him the scissors? No; just then someone came in—but who? She cannot recollect, and goes puzzling herself—who?
The child sleeps on, and smiles; it is dreaming.
VIII
THE MESSENGER
He is on the road, and his beard and coat-tails flutter in the wind.
Every few minutes he presses a hand to his left side—he feels a pang; but he will not confess to it—he tries to think he is only making sure of his leather letter-bag.
"If only I don't lose the contract-paper and the money!" That is what he is so afraid of.