“What the devil do you mean by coming for me like that?” Ennison exclaimed, glowering down upon him. She could think of nothing more to say. The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. . And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. Then, if you are bad to me, I can more easily blow off your head. His fears supplied him with unwonted vigour. And she had not dressed herself in this habit of a blue so much like the sky just for his sake, no matter that Lucy had said how much this colour suited with her eyes. Like a nightmare memory that returned again and again to haunt her.
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