"My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. “You are so inherently gallant, John, so pure of heart. And here you are!” Her aunt opened all the fingers of her gloved hand in a rhetorical gesture. The thought passed through his mind even as he started to cross the terrace at a jogtrot, moving to head her off. She had never understood how much knowledge had been kept from her because she was a woman and even began to doubt the methods of the Church, something she never would have dared before. The fire still burned brightly. It was bare of any furnishings.
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