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. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. Sheppard heaved a deep sigh, and opened her eyes, which now looked larger, blacker, and more melancholy than ever. The night before they made McClintock's Ruth and Spurlock leaned over the rail, their shoulders touching. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. Barring that the Valade fellow had sneaked back. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. "I understand," she said. He still watched her and questioned her. Then began expostulations, preluded by a telegram and headed by her aunt. "Bring him out, Quilt.
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