I’m not a lovesick boy. 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. As she started, rearing up her head, a hand stole about her mouth and closed down hard. To-night there seemed to be a new brilliancy in her eyes, a deeper quality in her tone. With a finger crooked in his side-pocket, she measured her step with his, her senses still dizzy from the echo of the magic sounds. ‘He prayeth best who loveth best—all things both great and small. The lighting-up pierced the obscurity of the box, and Ramage stopped his urgent flow of words abruptly and sat back.
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