‘And it is not only a question of her identity, but a matter of her life as well. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. That did not sound like the name the young man had offered in the tower of the water-clock. This spot, which still retains its name, acquired the appellation from an old crone who lived there, and who, in addition to a very equivocal character for honesty, enjoyed the reputation of being a witch. She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force. She was nearly dead. “I have heard these things from you before, and you have had my answer. Nothing ensued. You didn’t see me fall into a swoon when you cursed just now, did you?’ ‘I’m beginning to doubt if anything less than a sledgehammer would send you into a swoon,’ Gerald retorted. "I can't make you understand; I can't make you see things as I see them. " "Then he has been unfortunate?" "That's patent enough. Still, one has to be reasonable. ’ ‘That is what you think? Let us try!’ ‘Don’t be idiotic!’ She was backing from him, reaching through one of the slits she had carefully manufactured in her petticoat. She made no answer, and for a time he debated some problems with himself. This man and he were alike, and about the same age.
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