‘I—I mean, she were—’ ‘Pretty as a picture?’ suggested Gerald. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. Sheppard, raising herself, and looking at him as if her life depended upon the answer.
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