Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. "No; we never had one; at least, I never saw it. At the end of two long lines of foot-guards stood the cart with a powerful black horse harnessed to it. She watched the captain tuck the pistol back in his pocket, and perch on the edge of the big desk. She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her. She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. “Lucy, do you forgive me?” She looked at him in earnest.
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