The wind too was rising and filling the house with ghostly creaks.
It was one of those curious nights when John Barleycorn chose to be kind--when mind and body stayed alert and keen.

Carl lazily poured some whiskey in the fire and watched the flame burn blue.

He could not rid his mind of the doctor's farm and the girl in Vermont.
Again the wind shook the farmhouse and danced and howled to its crazy castanetting.

There was a creak in the hallway beyond.

Last night, too, when he had been talking to Wherry, there had been such a creak and for the moment, he recalled vividly, there had been no wind.