A very little more and he would rush crying his secret to the whole world; slowly he had summoned calm back to him.

Rupert Craven should be defeated; he would, quietly, visit Sannet Wood, face it in its naked fact, stand before it and examine it--and fight down once and for all this imagination of God.
Those glances that men flung upon him, that sudden raising of the eyes to his face.

.

.

a man greeted him, another man waved his hand always this same suspicion.