"
"Good night,--good night,--good night," gasped Carol.
Forgetting her errand to the office, she rushed back to David, to
safety, to the sheltering folds of the little white cottage tent.
He questioned her curiously about her experience, and although she
tried to evade the harsher points, he drew every word from her
reluctant lips.
"Lunger,--and bugs,--and chasers,--it doesn't sound nice, David."
"But maybe it is the best thing after all. We are not used to it yet,
but I suppose it is better for them to take it lightly and laugh and be
funny about it. They have to spend a lifetime with the specter, you
know,--maybe the joking takes away some of the grimness."
Carol shivered a little.
"Aren't you going to the office?"
"No, I am not. If Mrs. Hartley wants to see me, she can come here. I
am scared, honestly. Let's do something. Let's go to bed, David."
It was a two-roomed cottage, a thin canvas wall separating the rooms.
There were window-flaps on every side, and conscientiously Carol left
them every one upraised, although she had goose-flesh every time she
glanced into the black wall of darkness outside the circle of their
lights, a wall only punctuated by the yellow rays of light here and
there, where the more riotous guests of the institution were
dissipating up to the wicked hour of nine o'clock.
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