Yet, as he returned home, defeated once more, Jonathan was certain that he had partially awakened her. And he also realized that, as Tom had hinted, he was falling under the spell of this strange, twisted being. She was almost an automaton, but not quite. No, she was more like a person obsessed by the craving for a narcotic. He clenched his fists and swore to save her, or to kill her in the attempt.
A week later, when he believed the effect of Jo's fright had worn off, Jonathan posted himself outside the mews and waited for the morning gong. He told himself that he was looking for Jock but his heart leaped when he saw the girl approaching before the harsh echoes of the "first bell" had died away. He noticed with delight that she was taking more care of her appearance than before. A white flower shone in her hair, which was newly washed and neatly combed. Her bare feet peeped from beneath the hem of a fresh robe.
"Good morning, Jo," he smiled at her. "Would you like to see my house? It's not far; you have time."
For a long moment she looked at him dubiously. Then her curiosity overcame her fear. "Ye-es. Jo will go. Must be back when second gong rings."
"Come then. We must hurry." This time she let him hold her arm. "I found some new flowers in the valley this morning," he continued softly.
"Flowers?" She glanced at him under fringed lashes.
"Yes.... Like the one you wear in your hair. What is it called?"
"It called.... It called...." She shook her head at last. "Jo ... forget."
"And this tree, all covered with blossoms. What is its name?"