Playing with one hand he turned on his stool to glance at her. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. ‘Pitiful. It would have been very well if she had been some common creature who might have been bought off. Now, you and I can gossip at a gate, and Honi soit qui mal y pense. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. . To the poor carpenter it seemed an endless distance. The annihilation of the Terror which fascinated her and troubled her dreams o' nights. The air might be cool, but half an hour without head-gear was an invitation to sunstroke.
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