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The knowledge breathed into her heart a satisfying warmth. Each became frightfully aware of the other as a plastic energetic body, of the strong muscles of neck against cheek, of hands gripping shoulder-blade and waist. ‘While you are making me this interrogation, my poor Jacques bleeds to death. His glance came up again and met hers. In doing this, he chanced to raise his eyes and half fancied he beheld, shaded by a pillar at the extremity of the western aisle, the horrible countenance of the thief-taker. Time after time he reminded her of how powerless she would be without him, how unkind the world was towards single women.
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