He drew her close up to him with a strong, steady pull. There was no such a thing as perfection in a mixed world. Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards. ‘You damned little fool! How dared you steal my sword?’ Her eyes flew open. She thrust at him, following, almost spitting him as he crashed against the altar, rocking the huge candlesticks and the vessels that stood on it. “And what was that dreadful confession you had to make?” he was saying. The entrance was barred against them; and they had the additional mortification of hearing Sheppard's loud laughter at their discomfiture. It was immediately opened by a man with light eyelashes and a manner suggestive of restrained passion. “Well, make sure you use something.
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