Then she saw that it was
her father.
He did not move; he might have been a block of stone shining in the
dimness. Terrified, she stood, herself not moving. Then she came forward.
She put her hand on his shoulder.
"Oh, father--father, what is it?" She felt his body trembling beneath her
touch--he, the proudest, finest man in the country. She put her arm round
his neck. She kissed him. His forehead was damp with sweat. His body was
shaking from head to foot. She kissed him again and again, kneeling beside
him.
Then she remembered where they were. Some one might come. No one must see
him like that.
She whispered to him, took his hands between hers.
"Let's go home, Joan," he said. "I want to go home."
She put her arm through his, and together they went down the little
stairs.
Chapter IV
Sunday, June 20: In the Bedroom
Brandon had been talking to the Precentor at the far end of the ballroom,
when suddenly Ronder had appeared in their midst. Appeared the only word!
And Brandon, armoured, he had thought, for every terror that that night
might bring to him, had been suddenly seized with the lust of murder.
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