He walked on for an hour longer, till he could scarcely drag one leg after another. Her gratitude swelled within her. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. Immediately he grasped the fact that there was drama here, probably the old drama of the fugitive. He knew she would be there, practicing alone in 118. He was six blocks away from his home, a ten story building apparently made solely of glass. The pistol was his own, it is true, but it was one which was taken from him when he forced his way in upon me before.
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