"Well, you never can tell," he continued, lamely. Papillon would have broken him down; anything tender would have sapped his will; and like as not he would have left the stool and rushed into the night. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. The situation bothered him considerably. John turned toward the short staircase as she alit upon the first creaky step. “Sort of man who can see no further than his nose,” he remarked contemptuously. CHAPTER II. Poe is all right, if you don't mind nightmares. What you say is probably all true and necessary.
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