men comes up behind me and says quite distinctly, "My friend! All is lost!" Then he taps me on the shoulder and I hear him drop down dead.' He panted and wiped his forehead.
'So that is your night?' she said.
'That is my night. It comes every few weeks—so many days after I get what I call sentence. Then I begin to count.'
'Get sentence? D'you mean this?' She half closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, and shuddered. '"Notice" I call it. Sir John thought it was all lies.'
She had unpinned her hat and thrown it on the seat opposite, showing the immense mass of her black hair, rolled low in the nape of the columnar neck and looped over the left ear. But Conroy had no eyes except for her grave eyes.
'Listen now!' said she. 'I walk down a road, a white sandy road near the sea. There are broken fences on either side, and Men come and look at me over them.'
'Just men? Do they speak?'
'They try to. Their faces are all mildewy—eaten away,' and she hid her face for an instant with her left hand. 'It's the Faces—the Faces!'
'Yes. Like my two hoots. I know.'
'Ah! But the place itself—the bareness—and the glitter and the salt smells, and the wind blowing the sand! The Men run after me and I run. . . . I know what's coming too. One of them touches me.'
'Yes! What comes then? We've both shirked that.'
