"Thank you, sir," said Spurlock, holding out his hand. 58 \"Why will you not touch me?\" She cried out, sitting up, her head in her hands. Already the warm sun was drawing from the pines their delicious odour. "I yield to fate. It was horrible, but what could she do? She meant to live her own life, and he meant, with contempt and insults, to prevent her. Followed by Van Galgebrok and others of his retinue, he then rushed into the room, where Rowland, Sir Cecil, and their attendants, stood with drawn swords prepared to receive them. He smothered a laugh.
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