"Oh, am I?" she retorted. "I suppose you believe everything you read in
the newspapers?"
Mr. Heatherbloom did not answer now; he was staring out of the window.
Against the sky the jutting lines of buildings seemed to waver; new
extraordinary angles and jogs seemed to assert themselves. His gaze had
a glittering brightness when it turned. "Have you any better authority?"
His tone was a challenge. "I heard her tell him so myself," she said
succinctly. "That she could never marry him and that he must never come
back."
Mr. Heatherbloom's hand crumpled the newspaper; then mechanically he
folded it and put it in his pocket. His look was once more bent outward;
tiny specks, that were big steamboats going very fast, seemed motionless
on the sparkling surface of the water afar. His thoughts scattered; he
tried to collect them, to realize where he was, how he happened to be
there; the identity of the speaker and what she had been saying! Certain
preconceived, fixed ideas and conclusions had been toppled over,
brushed aside in an instant. Was it possible?
"I was waiting to trim and fill the lamps," said Jane.
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