In another minute, the tramp of horses' feet told that the perpetrators of the outrage had effected their escape. Things were thrown here and there, to be taken up, or again cast aside, as the whim arose; while the broken-backed chairs and crazy table bore the marks of many a conflict. Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. By a tacit agreement they ignored the significant thing between them, ignored the slipping away of the ground on which they had stood together hitherto. “Dear friend,” she said, “do not magnify me into a physiological problem.
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