‘But how did she meet such a person in a convent?’ ‘He was wounded and came there for sanctuary,’ Gerald explained, adding almost through his teeth. Eh? Banging against the old rollers—that'll put some life into us both. She hated the manor. Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall. Besides, I do not want a price on my head. Opposite, his pupil stood with bowed head and clasped hands. Her mind turned and accused itself of having been cold and hard.
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