He is coming here to tea. He might not condone it, but the feelings that had prompted it augured well for Melusine’s safety. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. For just as though a vague likeness is sometimes borne swiftly in upon one, so a vague dissimilarity between the face on the poster and the heroine of his thoughts had slowly crept into his consciousness. Not content with this, the assailants set fire to the house in half-a-dozen other places; and the progress of the flames was rapid and destructive.
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