She winked at him as he shut the door. She listened with growing apprehension to the tale that Gerald told, omitting any mention of pistols and daggers, and at the end delivered herself of various expletives highly unsuited to a lady of her advanced years. She was going through a new world with him side by side. He was a man tout à fait capable, this Gerald. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. Why had she married him, off-hand, like that? She did not love him, or he knew nothing of love signs. Her efforts were vain. ‘You damned little fool! How dared you steal my sword?’ Her eyes flew open. The door to the room in question was closed.
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