"When I sit in a car beside Rose, it'll be because I'm taking him to be lynched," Rupert explicitly set forth.
"Really?"
"Yes, dearest."
Gerard rested his head against the cushioned chair-back and met the inflexible black eyes with the cool, mischievous resolution of his own regard, saying nothing at all.
X
SENTENCE OF ERROR
It was nearly twelve o'clock, that night, when Corrie arrived home. Flavia ran down the wide staircase to meet him, finger on lip; a childish figure in the creamy lace and silk of her negligee, with her heavy braids of shining hair falling over her shoulders.
"You are so late," she grieved. "And so cold! Come near the hearth—papa is in the library, still."
Corrie allowed her small urgent hands to draw him towards the fireplace that filled the square hall with ruddy reflections and dancing shadows. He was cold to the touch, ice clung to the rough cloth of his ulster, but there was color and even light in the face he turned to her.