They clapped wildly afterward. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. . Spurling, who sat on the right of the table. I am not prying for my own amusement. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. 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. “Agreed,” he said with queer exaltation, and his grip tightened on her hand.
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