I’d rather die than hear any more fairytales. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. By rights I ought to have arrested her days ago. He was a tall man and fair, with bluish eyes that were rather protuberant, and long white hands of which he made a display. Emerging from this aperture, he was about to descend, when he was alarmed by hearing the tramp of horses' feet swiftly approaching, and had only time to hide himself behind one of the largest signboards before alluded to when two horsemen rode up. . "Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory. I do not wish to blow off a head, you understand. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder. But she was disturbed, mysteriously disturbed.
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