“Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. But was that enough? Dim, formless suspicions of something more vital wandered about his mind. “John, don’t!” she cried. ’ He shifted unguardedly, and hissed a breath, wincing. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. "You needn't gag me," he added, "I'll not cry out. ‘I told you I could handle her. ‘But you do not understand, mon ami. Leastways, not on your own. “I’ve been looking out for you,” he said. ‘Tchah! So you’re the whelp’s girl, are you? Suppose you’ve nothing but that villainous French in your tongue.
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