42/47 Yet she had seen the mouth quiver into softness; and those broad shoulders had once stood between her and danger--possibly death. "What do you want of me ?" it was asking--helplessly--of the distant man; "and can I--dare I--give it ?" Then her thoughts flew onward to the ball of the evening, for it was the night of the Marmion ball. No more escape! If she went--and nothing should prevent her from going--it would be Falloden's evening, Falloden's chance. She had been perfectly conscious of evading and thwarting him during the previous week. |