‘But I have the pistol,’ Gerald pointed out. The thought passed through his mind even as he started to cross the terrace at a jogtrot, moving to head her off. The sound of their strident voices floated upwards, the high nasal note of the predominant Americans, the shrill laughter of girls quick to appreciate the wit of such of their male companions as thought it worth while to be amusing. A shout was heard at a little distance, and, the next moment, a person rushed with breathless haste to the stair-head. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. " "May I trust you?" hesitated Thames.
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