‘Wait for me. The material cares of life hang about your neck like a millstone. There’s sure to be a place somewhere. I wonder whether you would mind, Lady Ferringhall,” he went on, with a sudden glance at her, “if I tell you that you yourself remind me a great deal more of what she was like then, except of course that your complexion and colouring are altogether different. Her heart in her mouth, hoping against hope, Melusine made her way back to where she had left the boy. You can pay me when we return. Jack, whose back was towards it, did not see it; but he heard, from the pitying exclamations of the crowd, that it was in view.
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