‘Allow me. There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. ‘Never trust a gun in female hands,’ grumbled Hilary, dropping the nun’s habit and backing to join his friend. Advancing to the middle of the chamber, he halted, drew himself up, and fixed his dark, expressive eyes, on Thames Darrell. He would take her with great force. "I'll soon settle this business. I deserve pretty much what I’ve got. And if she is not a nun, nor a refugee, and yet is entirely English, I’m hanged if I know what she is.
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