: Count Zarka: A Romance by Magnay William Sir Greiffenhagen Maurice Illustrator - Adventure stories; English fiction 20th century

@FreeBooksThu 08 Jun, 2023

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n the girl's brown travelling skirt.

"Yes; some shot hit my hand," she replied coolly, bringing forward her left hand bound with her handkerchief the delicate texture of which was absorbing blood like blotting paper.

"And ruined my gown," she went on in the same calm voice, contrasting curiously with his excited tone. "Or perhaps it was my fault. I should have held my hand out of harm's way."

He pulled out a folded handkerchief.

"Let me offer you this. Can you staunch the bleeding till I fetch a doctor?"

She reached for the handkerchief without looking at her companion.

"Thank you. I will take that. But you need not bother about a doctor."

She interrupted him with the same equable voice.

"If you will direct me to the nearest road to Gorla's Farm, I won't trouble you any more."

His look of concern was gradually changing to one of puzzled surprise. He could not make her out, nor tell whether she was seriously offended with him or not, so little emotion, or even expression, did she evince. His self-reproaches and vehement apologies seemed to go for nothing. The girl made even less of them than she did of her wounded hand, and she regarded that coolly enough. But a man does not, even unwittingly, inflict bodily harm on another, still less on a woman, without feeling genuine regret for it, and this man could not at once check his expressions of sorrow, cavalierly as they were received.

He looked surprised. "Do you live in these wilds?"

She laughed. "You did not think there was any habitation, perhaps."

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