Hidden menace; a prescience of something dreadful about to happen. "At length, I have my wish," continued Mrs. , probably tried to become a hooker, I don’t know. God send the fellow did turn out to be a spy! Beckoning Roding on, Gerald crept down the corridor towards the source of the swishing he had heard. "I'll tackle it to-night!" "But it's after ten!" "What's that got to do with it? … The roofs of the native huts scattering in the wind! … the absolute agony of the twisting palms!…. “And what was that dreadful confession you had to make?” he was saying. It did not matter that he wore the cloth; something was wrong with him.
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