‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. Not with the unavoidable explanations, and the need to secrete the sword and hide it before returning the priest’s horse to its stable—which had been her excuse for running from Martha’s protestations. She held out her hand for it, but Gerald smiled. So, by way of gaining time, he resolved to question him further. “No one asks you to care for them. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. In the struggle the pistol went off, but without damage to either party. I hope you won’t mind if I say first that I think it does me an extraordinary honor that you should think of any one like myself so highly and seriously, and, secondly, that I wish it had not been written.
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