167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. " "A white wall is a fool's paper, Jack,—remember that," rejoined Wood. . "Hear me, Sir Rowland!" he cried. He pressed the bloody wrist into her mouth, and she though she could not feel it or 72 control it, she knew she was being made to swallow. He never felt any need to explain himself. But for all that, it offered relief; his brain, stupefied by the fumes, grew dull, and conscience lost its edge to bite. Yet you can look Cheveney in the face and declare that you do not know him. There is a button loose on that coat under your pillow. I cannot do it, David.
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