. 225 “Sebastianus. . I’d need to be out of my senses. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. . She formed a wild resolution, and, lest she should waver from it, she set about at once to realize it. His hand fell lightly to her chest where her heart was 211 beating, almost tenderly. That had taken her by surprise, and her tired wits had failed her.
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