His face changed and she saw, with a stab at her heart, the dawning of irritation in his eyes. Rhea went down, screeching and clawing at the air for the sword, which clanked heavily on the ground. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. " Which was literally the truth. I’ve to collect my sword and hat, and then we must get back to London. ” She blushed deeply. "Her blood be upon her own head, then," replied Rowland, sternly.
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