Defiantly he plunged into the story that Spinney had reported. To his
astonishment Harlan rushed for the door. He went out and slammed it
behind him.
A project had come to him, prompted by his furious rage which mocked
common-sense. A man more accustomed to the conventions would not have
attempted it. But all his north-country passion rioted in him at that
moment.
The night before he had wept because the peace and good name of Clare
Kavanagh were threatened and he could only beat the ugly phantom of
scandal helplessly.
Now suddenly he found work for his hands--and his hands had always been
his means of expressing his soul in toil, achievement, and in passion.
He hurried down the stairs into the State House rotunda where the
throngs were. The hearing before the committee was adjourned. The band
was playing. He thrust himself through the press of the women. Maids and
matrons stared after him. His face was pale, his lips made a
straight-edge and his eyes swept every group with eagerness that was
almost wild.
Pages:
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513