. . ’ ‘Pah!’ scoffed Melusine. "Not a syllable!" answered the carpenter, angrily. Melusine was unable to repulse him—even had she tried. Imagine her, putting herself to all this delay and inconvenience for a young wastrel she did not know and who, the moment he got on his feet, would doubtless pass out of her life without so much as Thank you! And it was ten to one that she would not comprehend the ingratitude. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. ” “He probably does not know of the relationship,” Annabel remarked.
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