“Call it warning, if you like. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. But Gerald wouldn’t hear of it. She looked at it with a little shudder, but she made no motion to take it. When Gianfrancesco came to call this time, she was excited and ready. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. ” She realized it was possible to be sorry for him—acutely sorry for the situation. "To-night it is their turn," said Jonathan, binding up his wounded fingers with a handkerchief. But perhaps he was right not to tell you the truth.
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