She appeared not to have realised the implications of her outburst, but clung a little to Gerald’s hands which had taken hers in a comforting clasp. And now let's go back to the Shovels, and finish our brandewyn and bier, Muntmeester. A nod was exchanged. “Anna,” she moaned, “I am a jealous, ungrateful woman. A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror. It isn’t law, nor custom, nor masculine violence settled that. As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins. See paragraph 1.
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