The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. "I loved you," replied Jack,—"don't start—it is over now—I loved you, I say, as a boy. Would you tell her … now?" his eyes flaming with mockery. Winifred's reception was kind, but more distant, and after the slight ceremonial she resumed her occupation. "You will spare the officers a labour then," rejoined Jonathan. Young, not much older than she was: she was twenty and he was possibly twenty-four.
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