My motive in coming hither is to serve you, and save your life. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. Wood. ‘Perhaps she don’t understand English,’ suggested Roding. Each became frightfully aware of the other as a plastic energetic body, of the strong muscles of neck against cheek, of hands gripping shoulder-blade and waist. This was what he missed. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered. You care for me just a little, I know.
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