He cherished her. Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away. . ‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. ’ ‘And who, may I ask, is Dorothée?’ asked Gerald. To-morrow he might be sorry; but to-day, this hour! She rose, not quickly, but with a dignity which only accentuated her beauty. She could feel her face turning beet red. There was a dreadful stifled groan, and she fell heavily upon the landing. I am yours for the making over.
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