But when she learns that you are a fugitive from justice…. ‘—and I love your raven hair, and your bright blue eyes, and your very kissable lips—’ suiting the action to the words ‘—and I love the crazy way you speak English, and the way you curse at me. Love is a great thing, and happiness a joy. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters. ‘Then mayhap this will persuade you!’ With a scrape of steel, he drew his sword from its scabbard. Nay, for aught I know, some of them may even now have got scent of me. The barmaids had too strongly appealed to his sense of novelty. Wood was dressed with more than ordinary care, and in more than ordinary finery.
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