It was hard to meet that gaze. "Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled. The plank hung over his head. ’ ‘What?’ Appalled, Gerald could only gaze at her. Once or twice she commented upon it, but she knew that it was resultant of his fear of her impending departure. He did not explain what had happened to her. Before any assistance could be rendered by the jailers, who stood astounded, Blueskin had got Wild in his clutches. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. He drew her closer. A sudden knock at the door startled her.
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