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"
He wasn't greatly surprised. Perhaps the notion that she might suggest
something of the sort was responsible for the tentative dubious way in
which he had said he supposed it couldn't be done.
But Rose, at the sound of her own voice and the extraordinary
proposition it was uttering, was astonished clear through. She hadn't
had the remotest idea of saying such a thing a moment or two before.
What had suggested it, she couldn't have told. That day-dream perhaps,
that she had amused herself with while Mrs. Goldsmith was making up the
tale of her atrocities. Perhaps it had been just the suggestions
speaking in the tone, not the words, of John Galbraith's voice--that he
hoped she'd offer something like that.
Anyway, whatever it was that presented the idea to her, the thing that
seized on it and spoke it aloud was an instinct that didn't need to stop
and think--an instinct that realized indeed, if this isn't too
far-fetched a way of putting it, that its only chance lay in escaping
into the open ahead of the slower-footed processes of thought.


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