God is a jealous God, and He turned upon me relentlessly. He was a tall man and fair, with bluish eyes that were rather protuberant, and long white hands of which he made a display. He was tender with her as he had not been in years. There, after protestations of friendliness and helpfulness that were almost ardent, he mounted a little clumsily and rode off at an amiable pace, looking his best, making a leg with his riding gaiters, smiling and saluting, while Ann Veronica turned northward and so came to Micklechesil. The jealous burn at his eyes subsided and his finger came up.
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