“Isn’t that rather a strange question—under the circumstances?” he asked quietly. What a mercy that the blow aimed at her by the ruffian, Wild, though it brought her to the brink of the grave, should have restored her to reason! Ah! she stirs. ‘That’s wicked, that is. ” She took his hand, interrupting him. ‘Well, I can see you won’t let it alone, so what do you propose to do about the wench?’ ‘I’ll die before I let it alone,’ Gerald vowed. ‘Nothing of the sort,’ argued Gerald. All three, then, burst into an immoderate fit of laughter. For the face under her gaze she could find but one expression—fine. He was leaning against a window frame, his hat in his hand.
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