She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. She caught at the idea. She tore open the envelope and read it. Her grave fine face, her warm clear complexion, had already aroused his curiosity as he had gone to and fro in Morningside Park, and here suddenly he was near to her and talking freely and intimately. A moment afterwards, the street was illumined by a blaze of torchlight, and a tumultuous uproar, mixed with the clashing of weapons, and the braying of horns, announced the arrival of the first detachment of Minters. Even her debt to him was a triviality now. You’ll be telling me Gerald did not catch you snooping at the Bicknacres, I suppose. I'll call it my wedding gift.
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