She and Courtlaw drove homewards together. There would be no mercy in this man. She even thought that perhaps she might come to love him, in spite of that faint indefinable flavor of absurdity that pervaded his courtly bearing. It is your own choice, isn’t it?” She nodded. Blueskin will go with you,—for fear of a mistake. ” “No,” she moaned, “not that. I should like to know how it is concerned with Sir John Ferringhall, and how my presence intervenes. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. 270 “Curse that boy!” He chuckled and stomped the water. He got up brusquely. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. .
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