She had no intention whatsoever of spending her life in a convent, but that was not his affair. He glanced at his watch. Two shots were fired at him by Jonathan; one of which passed through his hat, and the other through the fleshy part of his arm; but he made good his retreat. Both of them would be committing novel and unforgettable acts. He took her hands firmly in his and raised them to his lips. “You poor little girl!” he cried. His tone changed, becoming a little more moderate. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. ‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile.
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