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The man remained motionless, fearing to move lest the vision fade and the harsh voice of Fallon blare out from below. "Damn Fallon!" he muttered, and then the pictured lips moved and in his ears was the soft, sweet sound of a voice. The writhing snakes with the shining tails resolved into flickering wall-shadows which danced lightly among the slanting lodge-poles.
In the hall, her stout figure looming grotesque in wall-shadows, sat Blanche Devine pretending to read. Now and then she rose and tiptoed into the bedroom with miraculous quiet, and stooped over the little bed and listened and looked and tiptoed away again, satisfied. The Young Husband came home from his business trip next day with tales of snowdrifts and stalled engines.
But there were other times times when the dancing wall-shadows were dark specters of ill-omen gloating ghoulishly before her horror-widened eyes as her brain conjured the picture of the man battered, broken, helpless, with bloated, sottish features, and bleared eyes a beaten man drifting heedlessly, hopelessly, furtive-eyed, away from his standards and from her.
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