Her gaze flickered down to his pistol. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. He seemed to be trying to understand something very perplexing and elusive. "Whatever you like, Hoddy," she agreed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. By a sort of instinct. There was no other door in it, and Jack therefore struck into another entry which branched off to the right. Jack was so harrassed that he felt half inclined to stand at bay.
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