She realized it, and was not wholly
revolted by it, even while her mind was fleeing to where the Master
Gorgio lay wounded, it might be unto death; even while she knew that this
man before her, by some means, had laid Ingolby low. She was all at once
a human being torn by contending forces.
Jethro's drop to the ground broke the sudden trance into which his words
had thrown her. She shook herself as with an effort of control. Then
leaning over the window-sill, and, looking down at him, now grown so
distinct that she could see his features, her eyes having become used to
the half-light of the approaching dawn, she said with something almost
like gentleness:
"Once more I say, you must go and come no more. You are too far off from
me. You belong to that which is for the ignorant, or the low, the
vicious and the bad. Behind the free life of the Romany is only the
thing that the beasts of the field have. I have done with it for ever.
Find a Romany who will marry you. As for me, I would rather die than do
so, and I should die before it could come to pass. If you stay here
longer I will call the Ry."
Presently the feeling that he had been responsible for the disaster to
Ingolby came upon her with great force, and as suddenly as she had
softened towards this man she hardened again.
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