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. She had suddenly become as the jewels of the Madonna, as the idol's eye, infinitely beyond his reach, sacred. In any event, I would not have let her escape me so easily. One trouble, however, shot its slanting bolts athwart the shining warmth of that opening day and marred its perfection, and that was the thought of her father. I'll proclaim his misdoings to the world; and, then, we shall see where he'll stand. “I mean to go to that dance!” she blubbered. She might even forgive him. A feeling of inexplicable awe crept over the carpenter as the sounds died away.
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