John did not see her until the last period. She watched the people and hummed softly to herself. " Du Val was hang'd, and the next who came On the selfsame stone inscribed his name: "Aha!" quoth the dubsman, with devilish glee, "Tom Waters your doom is the triple tree! With your chisel so fine, tra la!" "Tut, tut, tut," he cried, "what a fool I am to be sure! I ought to have cut John, not Jack. " With no little effort—for the right words had a way of tumbling back out of reach—he marshalled his phrases, and as he uttered them, closed his eyes to lessen the possibility of a break. She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives.
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