“Idiotic, isn’t it?” “Absolutely,” she agreed coldly. ‘You damned little fool! How dared you steal my sword?’ Her eyes flew open. ‘The old man who lives here, idiot. It isn't for their sakes, it's for your own. My garden-close would be a better thing than that. . "Where is your accursed master?" demanded Blueskin, holding the sword to his throat. “I hope you realize,” he went on, in a lower and less assured tone, “that I am in earnest—very much in earnest. If any of you—or all of you feel the same in six months’ time from to-day, will you come, if you care to, and see me then?” There was a brief silence. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. Sheppard, with startling eagerness.
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