The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. Who’s for a rubber of whist?” Ennison made so many mistakes that he was glad to cut out early in the evening. She seemed to have recovered herself as he returned, but rose as if she would go back to the saloon. Next instant he had her immobilised, her hands behind her back, her chest crushed to his, the white veil slipping once again. Her motherly features creased into anxious wrinkles. Her father, Bartolomeo, was a well-respected member of the Arte di Calimala: the Wool Makers Guild in Mantua. Jack attacked Jonathan with such fury, that he drove him into a shrubbery, and might perhaps have come off the victor, if his foot had not slipped as he made a desperate lunge.
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