CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. good at that. ’ Melusine looked from his coarse red features to the pistol, and froze inside as she recognised his intention. She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep. ‘At me,’ she uttered, holding her own pistol high and aiming it steadily. The lights rolled over, and were extinguished. The peculiar appearance of the sky was not without some influence in awakening these terrors. “I cannot pretend that I am glad to see you, Lady Ferringhall,” he said quietly. "To me?" gasped Winifred. ’ Was there a careful note in her voice? Gerald gave no sign, keeping his own tone light. A girl—at my age—is grown-up.
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