Drowning, her brain dizzy, Melusine clung to the source of the flooding warmth, her hands, no longer forcibly held, moving without will about the firm back. ‘Please to sit, monsieur. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. I suppose I ought to have been a man. " Still the voice was without emotion; calm, colourless. She distinctly shivered as he forced her to look at him. The light fell upon the fugitive, who stood before him in an attitude of defence, with the child in his arms. The strong fingers of one hand secured both her wrists there, and Melusine found herself chest to chest with him as he threw off his hat, and began to pat at her petticoat, searching for tell-tale protrusions. When he beheld Jack he uttered a deep groan. It was instantly answered by the deep note of St. ” 209 Clotilde was no fool. She had first picked up the fiddle back when it was still called a viol, that was how long she had been at it.
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