"You can shave him, you know. His legs were dreadfully swelled; his hands bruised; and his fetters occasioned him intolerable pain. ‘Never trust a gun in female hands,’ grumbled Hilary, dropping the nun’s habit and backing to join his friend. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. “And you must please not look at me as though I were an executioner,” she declared lightly. ’ ‘By all means,’ agreed Lucy at once, and ignoring the automatic protest that issued from Roding’s lips, she threw a command over her shoulder as she turned to go.
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