Arthur Somers Roche,
The Millionth Chance — Chapter 11
(1916)
“ It would only be a second before, twisting on the ice to face him, my right hand would be lowered to steady myself. I could not rise, for rising would mean that my good hand would be thrown out to steady myself, and Minot’s chance would come. But every moment of delay, every second, in this gathering snow-storm, meant that Ruth Gilman would have so much more time in which to escape. I knew, from the mutterings that fell from Minot’s lips, the snarls of anger, that he knew the same thing, and that he feared me too much to let me gain my feet, for he knew that I would follow. ”

