She sat perfectly still, however. “Women are mocked,” she said. What was the wench at? Yet he could not maintain this stand off forever. Still, her face never betrayed this distraction. ‘Softly, you say?’ she uttered, raging. Running to Gosse, she seized the portrait from his hand and lashed out, taking him off guard, so that he staggered back and fell against the card table. Immediately she had spoken of the loose button he knew that henceforth he must show no concern over the disposition of that coat. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. I will go with you.
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