Anna Alice Chapin,
The Woman With a Past — IX.—By Way of Experience
(1912–14)
“ He still stared into the fire, and Philippa still stared at him. A wild burst of wind shook the little hut, sending flurries of snow under the rattling door, but neither of them noticed it. A silence was poised fast between them, and hung so, growing more and more tense every moment. The night seemed full of voices. Were they warning, menacing, mocking—or all three? The strings of Pippa's life had been tautly strung, and she recognized an urgency that pervaded the atmosphere. She was not in the least afraid of the man. She was never afraid of anything. ”
