He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. Nor did he content himself with declaring his guiltlessness of the crime imputed to him, but began in his turn to menace his captor and accuser, loading the latter with the bitterest upbraidings. "Who's there?—Pshaw! it's only the wind. "You mustn't talk any more; the excitement isn't good for you. He thought for a moment, and went on: “Love is something that has to be taken care of. Something or other—she did not catch what—he was damned if he could stand.
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