Whatever danger was coming to them lay in it, came from it, she knew, in her confused, blurred way of thinking.

It loomed up now, with the square patch of ashen sky above, black, heavy with years of remembered agony and loss.
In Lois's hopeful, warm life this was the one uncomprehended monster.
Her crushed brain, her unwakened powers, resented their wrong dimly to the mass of iron and work and impure smells, unconscious of any remorseless power that wielded it.

It was a monster, she thought, through the sleepy, dreading night,--a monster that kept her wakeful with a dull, mysterious terror.
When the night grew sultry and deepest, she started from her half-doze to see her father come stealthily out and go down the street.

She must have slept, she thought, rubbing her eyes, and watching him out of sight,--and then, creeping out, turned to glance at the mill.

She cried out, shrill with horror.