He stepped quickly towards her. ‘Do you mean to tell me,’ enquired the captain at length, ‘that you have had the infernal audacity, the—the gall, the—the— Gad, it’s an outrage! You’ve stolen a horse from a priest?’ ‘I did not steal it,’ protested Melusine hotly. “We may just as well have our talk afterwards,” she said, “and I need not keep poor Mr. ‘Good. Very doubtful. Always as black and bitter as gall. “A most wonderful likeness, too. He lowered her neck before her, and she noticed a bizarre urge to bite him rising from her mind like an itch. Montague Hill?” Annabel put her hand suddenly to her throat and steadied herself with the back of a chair. Each became frightfully aware of the other as a plastic energetic body, of the strong muscles of neck against cheek, of hands gripping shoulder-blade and waist. .
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