‘It must have been so, Melusine, or I wouldn’t have kissed you. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. ‘Her purpose, if you will believe me, is to get herself a dowry so that she may marry an Englishman. ” He stalked around the room. Imagine her, putting herself to all this delay and inconvenience for a young wastrel she did not know and who, the moment he got on his feet, would doubtless pass out of her life without so much as Thank you! And it was ten to one that she would not comprehend the ingratitude. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. The poor boy, whose hands were pinioned behind him, looked very pale, but neither trembled, nor exhibited any other symptom of alarm.
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