Melusine did not try to fight her captor, for that would only make him angry. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. This forthright dame was so excited, she could not keep still, but paced about the parlour much as Melusine had done earlier. She changed her mind that day, as her mother Marina had predicted. He looked at it with uplifted eyebrows, but made no remark. She was perfectly aware that the boy had gotten some sort of bug in his craw over her despite her sloppy, strange appearance. The lantern was on the ground inside, ready. “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. When the bell rang, she lagged behind as was her habit.
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