’ ‘About me?’ The lady’s lashes fluttered and her fan came up. 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 wanted to stay where she was; but tears were dangerous; the more she wept, the weaker she would become defensively. Your history, your actions, nay, your very thoughts are better known to me than to your spiritual adviser. “Cheveney!” she repeated. All at once it came to him what a fool he was to worry over this phase which was wholly suppositional.
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