Pottiswick had mentioned muttering. At the threshold of the study he bade her good-night; but he did not touch her forehead with his lips. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. "Well, what sort of journey have you had, Quilt?" asked the man as he hastened to assist Sir Rowland to dismount. "By G—! she has missed her footing.
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