“And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better. Marvel held her handkerchief to her eyes, and appeared in great distress. He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. ‘No!’ Melusine snapped as he tugged at the thing. To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie. "Would you rather be alone?" "No. " Here the chapmen set up another boisterous peal.
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