CHAPTER XXVII His idea, cleverly planned, was to shatter her resistance, to confound her suddenly by striking her mind with words which would rob her coherent thought. He had been reading Belfort Bax, and declared himself a convert. Well, they’d got to the pheasants, and in a little while he would smoke. I am certainly no ghost. She would have to leave very soon. He smiled inwardly. Still, one never could tell. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. But in the train going home her aunt reasoned it out. "My janizaries are within call," returned Wild. That night, she hunted the alleyways of the old town.
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