“I shall kill him,” Annandale stubbornly repeated.
“Oh, don’t say such things,” the girl pleaded. “Don’t say them. Go home.”
Annandale turned sullenly, opened the door and looking back, muttered, “I have no home.”
Closing the door after him he started down the steps. They were few and wide, easy of descent. But they had become unaccountably steep. He caught at a rail. It steadied him. He stood there a moment. Then, a bit uncertainly, he zigzagged on.