She had unaccountable gleams of sympathy with and liking for him. Yet the thing hidden within her called and called. No pistols, no daggers today?’ ‘Would you have me show a pistol with so many soldiers? I am not a fool. You were afraid of me, afraid that I should have been shocked, afraid of the scandal. The priest normally assigned the duty in the Iovelli family had fled days before from the chapel. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. When he was concentrating, deep shadows formed under his gray eyes. "On my soul, yes," rejoined Jonathan.
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