"What are you waiting for?" asked Jack, impatiently. Trodger might not need his hair dressed, but the flagon of ale that each soldier quaffed would be welcome—once his captain had departed, thought Roding cynically. Perhaps, as you say, I do not really care—but I cannot do it. It was the size of my palm. Gerald raised a questioning eyebrow. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. . Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. It was really very jolly to talk to a man in this way—who saw the woman in her and did not treat her as a child. She knew the story only imperfectly, and followed it now with a passionate and deepening interest.
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