His fingers cherished the hilt of his sword and his eyes were on his friend and superior, ready at his back to do whatever was needed. To surrender himself to the law, to face trial and imprisonment, was out of the question. “Dear John,” she whispered. “I am afraid your broken dinner engagement will not be so easy to explain. Will you forgive me—if I say no more?” She looked at him with perplexed, earnest eyes. I did not reckon upon—him. Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy.
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