"Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?"—serenely. Catching hold of his chin, he bent back the neck, while with his left hand he pulled out a clasp knife, which he opened with his teeth, and grasping Wild's head with his arm, notwithstanding his resistance, cut deeply into his throat. What a heat that news had wrought. Mike was drinking a cup of black coffee. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. Ramage, speaking the simplest first thought of his heart. She asked the inevitable question, the one she knew Michelle was waiting to field like a quarterback anticipating the pass. Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return.
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