mbard's step sounded in the passage.
Wyant held her fast. "Tell me one thing: he won't let you sell the
picture?"
No--hush
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Make no pledges for the futurethen; promise me that.
The future?
In case he should die: your father is an old man. You haven't
promised?
She shook her head.
Don'tthen; remember that.
She made no answerand the key turned in the lock.
As he passed out of the houseits scowling cornice and facade of
ravaged brick looked down on him with the startlingness of a strange face
seen momentarily in a crowdand impressing itself on the brain as part of
an inevitable future. Above the doorwaythe marble hand reached out like
the cry of an imprisoned anguish.
Wyant turned away impatiently.
Rubbish
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he said to himself. "SHE isn't walled in; she can get out if
she wants to."
IV
Wyant had any number of plans for coming to Miss Lombard's aid:
he was elaborating the twentieth whenon the same afternoonhe stepped
into the express train for Florence. By the time the train reached Certaldo
he was convinced thatin thus hastening his departurehe had followed the
only reasonable course; at Empolihe began to reflect that the priest and
the Levite had probably justified themseyilai：
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