He heard Melusine cry out, but his attention was all for the nick he had made in her neck. "You remember that starling, Sir Rowland," he said maliciously, "and what occurred on it, twelve years ago?" "Too well," answered the knight, frowning. The tail-ender of this little caravan, he had been rather out of it. She used his own gun against him, a method that was occasionally cleaner than slitting throats when she got it right. But he seized the chance to entrap her fingers, fan and all, and look deeply into her eyes. Poor little one. One gets drawn into things. And tell Pottiswick to mend that lock we broke. I wonder if she has any idea how oddly beautiful she is?" Ruth at that precise moment was engaged by a relative wonder.
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