‘Whither away, mademoiselle?’ he said grimly, ungently grasping her arm above the elbow. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair. Jonathan, however, paid no sort of attention to this demonstration of hatred. Such pretty manners, she thought. Wood, now more buxom and more gorgeously arrayed than ever,—as well as a young and beautiful female, in whom he was at no loss to recognise the carpenter's daughter. ‘Yes, dear Nan, a flirtation. Only a few, but enough for me to understand that some act had driven you to this part of the world, where the hunted hide. His mind was filled briefly with psychic images of a charnel house that danced like a spider in his head.
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