"Can you not love him?" "Love him!" echoed the widow. Swiftly he looked back to Melusine and found she had whisked to the window, dragging a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve and hastily blowing her nose. Don’t you think that the shade of my hair is lovely?” “There is nothing particular the matter with the shade,” Anna answered, “but it is not nearly so becoming as before you touched it. Know that, don’t you?’ ‘Of course I know it,’ Lucy told him, and Melusine read the whisper in her mouth of those precious words, ‘I love you. And, if Rachel had not carried a candle, the room would have been plunged in total darkness. She glanced at him. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. But I can't account for it!" "At all events, you shall answer for it," thundered Wild, with a bitter imprecation. He regretted— more deeply than he could say—the occurrence of this evening.
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