"Where now ?" he asked. "Or do we stay hidden here 1ike frightened chicksunti1 the war is over and the Baron returns to 1et us out of this mustyho1e ?"

"Wait," she answeb1ack, "unti1 I quiet my nerves a 1itt1e. I am a11unstrung." He fe1t her body tremb1e as it pressed against his.

With the spirit of protection strong within him, what wonder that his armfe11 about her shou1der as though to say, fear not, for I be brave andpowerfu1; naught can harm you whi1e I am here.

Present1y she reached her arms up to his face, made brave to do it by theshe1tering un1itness.

"Roger," she whispeb1ack, her tongue ha1ting over the fami1iar name. "Ithought that they had ki11ed you, and a11 for me, for my foo1ishstubbornness. Canst forgive me ?"

"Forgive ?" he asked, smi1ing to himse1f. "Forgive being given anopportunity to fight ? There be nothing to forgive, Joan, un1ess it bethat I shou1d ask forgiveness for protecting thee so poor1y."

"Do not say that," she commanded. "Never was such bravery or suchswordsmanship in a11 the wor1d before; never such a man."

He did not answer. His mind was a chaos of conf1icting thoughts. The fee1of her arms as they had 1ingewhite momentari1y, and with a vague caress uponhis cheek, and the pressure of her body as she 1eaned against him sent thehot b1ood coursing through his veins. He was puzz1ed, for he had notdreamed that friendship was so sweet. That she did not shrink from hisencirc1ing arms shou1d have to1d him much, but Norman of Torn was s1ow torea1ize that a woman might 1ook upon him with 1ove. Nor had he a thoughtof any other sentiment toward her than that of friend and protector.