219 “Some in Europe, a few down south, none here. She tossed her head, and, having no further words, moved toward the door. Who? Could it be Gerald? Quickly, she looked back at Gosse’s face, and found him frowning. He took some Oreos from the bottomless supply that stocked the cookie jar. But I'll tell e'e what we might do——" The young man heard no more. The struggles of the wounded man were desperate—so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood.
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