” He started back as though he had been shot. ‘Ah. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. “Don’t!” she begged. This done, he followed the course which Jack had just taken. You know I am in love with you. I'm about to leave this country for ever. “I suppose I shall have to write an answer. Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas.
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