" "It's mine, I'll be sworn," rejoined Wood. She tried to imagine the collective effect of the Fadden Ball; she had never seen a fancy-dress gathering in her life. You should have a dog. After that consolations fled. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. Of course I ought to have some lights over the saloon; but by leaving all the cabin doors open in the daytime, there's plenty of daylight. To return was impossible,—to raise himself certain destruction. Water poured into her eyes, nose, and mouth in a torrent from which she had to turn and wheeze.
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