"I'll be his evil genius!" vociferated Jonathan, who seemed to enjoy her torture. Beyond was a narrow bridge, crossing a circular building, at the bottom of which lay a deep well. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. Men ought not to idealize any woman. She winced as he thrust the fact at her, was about to answer, and checked herself. “Whenever they try to take hold of life a man intervenes. She saw marks in the dirt where he had been pacing. ’ ‘That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. What his head conceived his hand executed.
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