5. ’ ‘Mercy me,’ gasped the nun. "Did you write it?" "No. I learned of your betrothal, gleaned all the information I could simply by eavesdropping. The rest were hieroglyphic characters, executed in red chalk and charcoal. Next instant, Gerald felt his wrist seized in an iron grip. The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. ) You are all the slender goddesses. I shall still believe in you. You mustn’t go clawing after a man that doesn’t belong to you—that isn’t even interested in you. Besides, Gerald would not for the world have passed up the chance of a little excitement. She did not realize that she was offering criticisms. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul.
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