There were mysterious rustlings that made him glance hopefully toward the sea. For that worthless father of yours—’ Melusine let go the hand only so that she might throw her own hands in the air. A gaunt, powerful man: no feature of his face decided, and yet for all that it had the significance of a countenance hewn out of rock. And experience was slow in coming. A buxom piece, who looked, Gerald decided, as if she would be more at home in an amorous engagement in a hayloft than sitting demurely in a ballroom. Afraid, no doubt, he thought grimly, that her other visitor would leave.
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