Turning to Melusine, he grabbed both her wrists and held her away from him, as if afraid that she might go for him. Fiercely defensive, as usual. She would wake in the night to repeat her bitter cry: “Oh, why did I burn those notes?” It added greatly to the annoyance of the situation that she had twice seen Ramage in the Avenue since her return to the shelter of her father’s roof. Pah!’ She flounced about and, crossing to the bed, plonked down on it, pointedly averting her face and resting the large pistol in her lap. Set yourself to find it out, if you will—but if you do, never dare to call yourself my friend again. But Jack was too well versed in the geography of the place to attempt either of them.
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