In a side-glance—for the floor was variously encumbered with overturned objects—he saw one of his paper weights, a coloured glass ball such as McClintock used in trade. That's the job. The smell assaulted them even before they entered the restaurant, greasy and savory. He thrust the smaller weapon into a scabbard that hung from his belt. And grasping the thick iron rod, she pushed with all her force against it, while Jack seconded her efforts from within. But no; she must step warily. Wood fared still worse. When she slipped off of it her head started to bob, filled with air. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared.
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