She lunged without warning again, and Gosse, just catching her blade on his own, was obliged to retreat backwards up the little stair. ‘How could I know that it is you?’ She peered at him in the darkness. Come up stairs, and take a glass of brandy. ‘You wish to die?’ ‘Not in the least. A cry was then raised by the leaders to attack Wild's house, and the fury of the mob was instantly directed to that quarter. Listen to me, Winifred. She counted three on the way to the train and four more on the crowded car that would have gladly taken him to bed with not so much as a word.
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