His breath grew shallower as he approached the room, conscious of the loudness of his hallway-reverberated footfalls. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. ‘Jacques? Oh, that is news of the very finest. Your face has flitted out of my watch-fire, and then I have been a haunted man. Not a word had been exchanged between the two boys on the road. For a space he rode the whirligig. If I don't, you shall clap me in the Condemned Hold in his stead.
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