" "In what way, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, in astonishment. She had a few acquaintances, English gentlemen, but she lived with her sister—was a lady. The wheel and the navigating instruments were sternward, under a spread of heavy canvas, a protection against rain and sun. “Good-bye,” he said earnestly. And probably the girl would wear herself out, too. ‘You mean that there is a rival Melusine to the one he has heard about? He does not. Behind the poet came Sir James Thornhill. I'm sorry. ‘It is you who is the fool,’ she threw at him, whipping round again.
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