‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. Mrs. . The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. Do I blow off the head of a man with whom I am in love?’ ‘That,’ said Gerald, disengaging his hand and at last drawing her into his arms, ‘deserves a reward. Come into the parlour, Winifred, and dry your eyes directly, or I'll send you to bed. Can't I make you understand? Perhaps it sounds cruel to you; but we women often have to be cruel defensively.
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