Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. In each pause she could sense his growing trepidation. The worst was over now. It's precisely what such a simpleton would do. I watched you wait at the farmhouse! But I couldn’t compromise your safety! You must have realized that!” She lowered her voice to a loud whisper. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag.
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