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Her gaze flickered down to his pistol. His mother's scream seemed again to ring in his ears, and he was so deeply affected that, fearful of exciting attention, he was about to quit the sacred edifice, when he was stopped by the entrance of Thames, who looked pale as death, with Winifred leaning on his arm. “May I enquire,” he asked smoothly, “in what way my appearance contributes to your amusement? If there is a joke I should like to share it. Besides, you cannot tell where it will end. I'll bet you haven't given her a bucket of paint in three years. I tell you, that girl would jump into the sea, rather. Her heartbeat quickened. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. Not fit to be dust on your boots. You've nothing to do but to take possession.
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