” He meditated. . ‘Why did you kiss me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ Gerald admitted. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away. She was an indignant queen, no doubt she was alarmed and disgusted within limits; but she was highly excited, and there was something, some low adventurous strain in her being, some element, subtle at least if base, going about the rioting ways and crowded insurgent meeting-places of her mind declaring that the whole affair was after all—they are the only words that express it—a very great lark indeed. ‘Her own,’ Gerald replied. If she kept on, would she make it out of the door? Then what? He could come after her before she could reach the secret passage. She told me the tale the other night, and I've only elaborated it. “I’ve gotta go.
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