We men are like children. She reminded him of his linnet, when he gave the bird the freedom of the house: it became filled with a wild gaiety which bordered on madness. After all, why need one look down. And with his clenched hand he struck him a violent blow in the face. " "Then you will stay!" she cried, clapping her hands joyfully, "for I'm sure he won't part with you. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. " "If I thought so—" cried the knight fiercely; "but this is idle," he added, suddenly checking himself. Using the shirt, she cleaned away the blood.
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