“Why?” He inquired. “No one asks you to care for them. . ’ He opened the purse and extracted a couple of guineas. Panic leapt into his eyes as he brought his wrist up just in time to parry the blade. The sound of their strident voices floated upwards, the high nasal note of the predominant Americans, the shrill laughter of girls quick to appreciate the wit of such of their male companions as thought it worth while to be amusing. ‘I don’t know that I dare. He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver. So far as I am concerned, I am just now a hopeless nonentity.
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