‘Bête. "Who, then?" demanded Jack. She saw her aunt in tears, her father white-faced and hard hit. Know that, don’t you?’ ‘Of course I know it,’ Lucy told him, and Melusine read the whisper in her mouth of those precious words, ‘I love you. At this juncture, Sir Cecil and his followers appeared at the threshold. But perhaps I had better get a room in an hotel to-night and look round. I'd like to shake you until your bones rattled; but the bones of a Roundhead wouldn't rattle to any purpose. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. She made lumpish and inadequate interruptions rather than replies. Perhaps Ramage was the more astonished.
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