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" "Murder him!" cried Trenchard shuddering. “I saw you in a sort of sloping, slippery place, holding on by your hands and slipping. ‘That’s just it. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. Sheppard, who witnessed this occurrence with dismay, looked timorously at Wood, in expectation of some hint being given as to the course she had better pursue; but, receiving none, for the carpenter was too much agitated to attend to her, she ventured to express a fear that she was intruding. The next hour makes, or mars you for ever.
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