She turned her cheek to the cold sill; and by and by the sill grew warm and wet with tears. She had to wear cream and a brown sash and a short frock and her hair down, and Gwen cream and a brown sash and a long skirt and her hair up. She was standing before a window, against the background of the rain-burdened April sky. They took her fingerprints sitting at the gray metal desk of Officer Nolte, the virile young buck who had brought her in. "Saved!" "Ay, ay, it's all bob, my covey! You're safe enough, that's certain!" responded the Minters, baying, yelping, leaping, and howling around him like a pack of hounds when the huntsman is beating cover; "but, where are the lurchers?" "Who?" asked Wood.
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