She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. “Come in here a moment, will you, Blanche,” he said. She didn’t like the shops, she didn’t like the other women’s faces; she thought the smirking men in frock-coats who dominated these establishments the most intolerable persons she had ever had to face. Terrific shouts were raised by the rabble, who threatened to tear Wild in pieces if he showed himself. You never saw him before yesterday. He went by another name then,—Rykhart Scherprechter I think he called himself.
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