I can’t forget about your sister. “Go on,” he said. ‘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. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. The real Ruth was as completely hidden as though she stood behind the walls of Agra Fort. Either we go forth together, or they shall bury me.
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