His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. And she had been doubting since that walk in the Zoological Gardens whether, indeed, he did simply care for her. I didn’t think—I don’t know what I thought. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads. Go away!” “Why kill this one, Lucia? She shall be missed.
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