"Was that thunder?" he faltered, as a terrible clap was heard overhead. She was looking about her, and her face was dark with anger. He passed, and came loitering back and stood beside her, silently looking into her face. Instead her point disengaged, dropped, and then the sword came up again and banged, flatbladed, onto Gosse’s wrist with such force that his own blade dropped from his grasp. She addressed him in a tone of puzzlement. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. . She would always be waiting upon this boy, he mused.
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