In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. " With this, he mounted his steed and rode off. We are alone, Sir Rowland," he added, snuffing the candles, glancing cautiously around, and lowering his tone, "and what you confide to me shall never transpire,—at least to your disadvantage. They were very nice about it, in memory of your father. The pouting cherry lips were slightly parted and the very faintest of panting breaths, together with the quick rise and fall of an alluring bosom, betrayed her fear. John laughed even harder, his eyes misting over. "It has been … rather a hard day, Hoddy," Ruth answered.
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