. ‘Moi, je vais vous tuer!’ ‘I don’t think so,’ Gerald said through his teeth. A lesson learned. ‘You’ll come with us and get yourself safe back home to your convent, understand?’ ‘But wait,’ begged Melusine, hanging back. Her figure was perfect,—tall, graceful, rounded,—and, then, she had deep liquid blue eyes, that rivalled the stars in lustre. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. She bent down. The pistol was lowered slightly. With a well-simulated unconcern and a heightened color she finished her breakfast.
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