Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. The Matriarchate! The Lords of Creation just ran about and did what they were told. Mike chortled. Why should he stare at her in this fashion?—for all the world as if she had pointed a pistol at his head? CHAPTER III He had said it, spoken it like that … his own name! After all these weeks of trying to obliterate even the memory of it!… to have given it to this girl without her asking! The thought of peril cleared a space in the alcoholic fog. . “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face.
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