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I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. “The plain common-sense of the case,” he said, “is that we can’t possibly be lovers in the ordinary sense. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. The stain upon our family is only half effaced: I have sworn the death of the villain and his bastard, and I will keep my oath. He had got here at speed by that means. She let him have it all, as it was, after all, for the last time. It seemed intolerable that she should go home and admit herself beaten. He sent a speculative glance at the immobile yellow face. I keep it for my own drinking," he added in a lower tone. "Hurrah!" shouted he, waving his hat triumphantly over his head.
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