He had only to recall this fact (which he did in each crisis) to erect a barrier she could not go around or over. Melusine giggled, and tucked her hand into his. “Yes?” “You remember once, how we talked—at a gate on the Downs? We talked about how a girl might get an independent living. Furiously, she dashed his hands away. Twenty-one, twenty-two. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. But after Singapore she found herself enduing them with the characteristics of the heroes in the novels she had just read for the first time. But he was at last persuaded that I mean you no harm, and that I might—just possibly, since I am both a gentleman and a major of militia—be able to be of more assistance to you than he himself.
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