‘Marry an Englishman! Which Englishman?’ Melusine shrugged. He wanted to put on his overcoat and come after you and look for you—in London. For fully five minutes he lay quite motionless. There were two sisters, you know. There was a pause, while the steel grey eyes sliced at her. She had a nut-brown skin, a swarthy upper lip, a merry black eye, a prominent bust, and a tun-like circumference of waist. A door led to the inner room; and it was evident from the peals of merriment, and other noises, that, ever and anon, resounded from within, that this chamber was occupied by the Marquis and his friends. It was Annabel who spoke. Youth finds it pleasant sometimes to be melancholy.
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