She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love. ‘No. “That young man was giving a luncheon party to a dozen friends at the Café de Paris to-day. He watched her constantly, trapped her in corners and slept with his arms locking her like a human cage. At this moment, Davies, who had completed his preparations, extinguished the torch. I don’t suppose a girl can tell if a man is in love with her or not in love with her. He was, however, instantly beaten back; and the fury of the mob was so great that it was with difficulty he could effect a retreat. ‘Where’s the sense in running away?’ ‘Doesn’t trust me,’ Gerald said briefly. A carpenter's daughter is no fit match for a peer of France.
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