He held her eyes. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. It had thrust her back with an undignified scuffle, with vulgar comedy, with an unendurable, scornful grin. ‘Go you through the passage and find the other door. See what you have made of me. ‘What the devil for? I’ll have one of the men ride the creature up tomorrow. Jack's body was caught, and passed from hand to hand over a thousand heads, till it was far from the fatal tree. Keeping to the shadow of the house, he crept forward until he could see better without, he hoped, being seen. Grace, confidence, the power of movement even, seemed gone from her.
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