W," said Mr. ‘Do you think I am afraid of a sword in the hand of a slip of a girl?’ For answer, Melusine lunged at him. Acting upon this humane determination, he impelled himself slowly backwards,—for he did not dare to face the blast,—and with incredible labour and fatigue reached the crevice. “He means nothing!” She whispered loudly. “Agreed,” he said, “certainly,” and drew a checkbook toward him. He turned his back on that temptation. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. ” He put his hands on her shoulders and lowered her onto the flat surface of the picnic bench. . The strong fingers of one hand secured both her wrists there, and Melusine found herself chest to chest with him as he threw off his hat, and began to pat at her petticoat, searching for tell-tale protrusions. Then they rode off at speed. But he knew.
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