Standing over the pierced Rhea, Lucy bayed, a long cry that was half-scream and half-howl. The uncanny directness of those gray eyes, the absence of diffidence, the beauty of the face in profile (full, it seemed a little too broad to make for perfect beauty), the mellow voice that came full and free, without hesitance, all combined to mark her as the most unusual young woman he had ever met. "Fear!" echoed Wild, in a terrible tone,—"fear! Repeat that word again, and nothing shall save you. I felt his heart. ‘Lord,’ he uttered, glancing about with a disparaging eye.
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