"No," he answered gravely. "He at least will trouble you no more."
"Dead?"
Her tone was awe-struck.
"Yes. It was a duel. I killed him."
She drew a deep breath.
Even though she hated Lord Denningham she knew he had loved her—and a woman's hatred of a lover is ever a partial one.
"Yes, I was afraid of him," she mused, and shuddered. "I am afraid altogether," she cried piteously. "Oh, Michael, let us go home."
She stretched out her hands to him, and he took her tenderly enough in his arms. But it was a moment to be more practical than sentimental.
"They may reach the coast before us," he said, looking from her to Jéhan de Quernais. "We should not delay."
The Count nodded.