She had unaccountable gleams of sympathy with and liking for him. 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. At this moment, Davies, who had completed his preparations, extinguished the torch. Katy had sneered at her for a moment, their eyes locking. Nine years ago, I was honest—was happy. They sat on a wooden bench that overlooked the less aromatic part of the lake, deeper and not as frequented by geese.
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