"You could not well be blamed," said Joan de Tany, generously.
As she spoke, Norman of Torn looked upon her critically for the first time, and he saw that Joan de Tany was beautiful, and that when she spoke her face lighted with a hundred little changing expressions of intelligence and character that cast a spell of fascination about her.
Norman of Torn, in his ignorance of the ways of women, saw only friendship in the little acts of Joan de Tany.
A threat was contained in this sentence, and Joan knew, without asking, what the threat was.
"My dear Joan," Ralph exclaimed, stretching himself out with a gesture of impatience, "don't you see that we've all got to be sacrificed?
Joan looked at him, opened her lips as if to speak, and closed them again.
Neither of them ever ventured out without a revolver, and the sailors who stood the night watches by Joan's grass house were armed with rifles.
One evening a terrific uproar arose in the barracks, and Sheldon, aided by Joan's sailors, succeeded in rescuing two women whom the blacks were beating to death.
The driver was a young man of three-or four-and-twenty, with a cigar between his teeth; wearing a dandy cap, drab jacket, breeches of the same hue, white neckcloth, stick-up collar, and brown driving-gloves--in short, he was the handsome, horsey young buck who had visited Joan a week or two before to get her answer about Tess.
There were tears also in Joan Durbeyfield's eyes as she turned to go home.
Miss Joan Stacey, dark, with a drawn face and hair prematurely touched with grey, walked straight to her own desk and set out her papers with a practical flap.
He spoke with the brain-shaking authority of an orator, and Flambeau and Joan Stacey stared at him in amazed admiration.