Her fingers closed upon it instinctively. She was too wrapped up in the sheer joy of playing again; it had 201 been intimate, masturbatory. His name was Marvel, and his avocation, which was as repulsive as his looks, was that of public executioner. One did not use pistols against a female. She was fiercely and bitterly jealous. The path he had selected conducted him to his mother's humble dwelling. She was an indignant queen, no doubt she was alarmed and disgusted within limits; but she was highly excited, and there was something, some low adventurous strain in her being, some element, subtle at least if base, going about the rioting ways and crowded insurgent meeting-places of her mind declaring that the whole affair was after all—they are the only words that express it—a very great lark indeed.
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