He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver. ‘But I have the pistol,’ Gerald pointed out. Don't feel fussed upon my account. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. He closed the door. And think things out. He was manifestly exerting his mind for her, and she found herself fully disposed to justify his interest. Recollect that. "Ho, no," replied Jack. No window. She formed a wild resolution, and, lest she should waver from it, she set about at once to realize it.
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