But her mind was ruffled, and its mirror-like surface of satisfaction was not easily restored. “May I be allowed to say,” he declared, “that I came here with the same intention. ‘Do you think I am afraid of a sword in the hand of a slip of a girl?’ For answer, Melusine lunged at him. Her aunt was making herself cuffs out of little slips of insertion under the newly lit lamp. “Annabel! Why, what on earth have you been doing to yourself, child?” she exclaimed. " "Not if it will hurt her. He loaded the launch with a thousand pounds—all she could carry—and started home immediately after sundown; but even then he lost from a hundred to a hundred and fifty pounds before he had the stuff cached in McClintock's bamboo-covered sawdust pit. You will go to London?” “It is necessary,” she answered. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity.
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