He laughed and bent a little closer. Her eyes were like stars as they were lifted to his face. And she did not appear to fear him in the very least.
"Well, it's a joke, isn't it, the difference between Dominic Le Mierre of a Sunday and Dominic Le Mierre in this place, my clothes all wet with sea-water. And now, tell me, witch, why do you think I'm here, in the Haunted House?"
"I couldn't say, I'm sure."
He was silent, staring hard into the candid, fearless eyes; then impulsively he cried,
"I believe I can trust you! But, I warn you, if you let out why I'm here, I'll kill you."
"You can trust me. I'd be killed before I'd let out."
A soft shadow darkened the clearness of her eyes: her long eyelashes fell before his puzzled stare.
"But why, bah! it appears you're not afraid of me, then! Very well. I'll tell you. It is the best way out of the difficulty. But sit up against this barrel, and drink a little brandy. I've stopped the bleeding in your head with a black enough cobweb."
Ellenor tried to raise herself up, but loss of blood had made her giddy, and Dominic put his arm round her and steadied her roughly, but not unkindly. Her dark head rested a second against his blue jerseyed shoulder, and once more she lifted her eyes to his. With brusque and evidently totally unpremeditated passion he kissed her red lips.