The Night-Cellar XVIII. She never even graduated high school, and that has been a thorn in her side ever since. "Promise me that. ’ She sighed relief to see a faint grin as he ventured to raise his head. “I knew,” she said, in a low despairing tone, “that people would talk. She comprehends what we're about. But, when? When do they go?’ ‘Today, miss. They will be safe. I wouldn’t even have to use very much gasoline. It’s the rarest luck, the wildest, most impossible accident. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness.
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