The boat rocked violently with the struggle. A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. “Why should it matter?” he said. Her voice shook, her eyes were very soft and melting. Somebody to whom she would be necessary, who for days would have to depend upon her for the needs of life. His throat filled; he wanted to weep. He seemed to be hesitating between two courses of action. It is the horse of the priest, you understand, and—and he does not know that I have borrowed it. Lightheaded, she threw up in the courtyard of the Palazzo as servants crowded her in alarm. "My servants, like Eastern mutes, must have eyes, and ears,— and hands, if need be,—but no tongues.
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