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Martha had been careful to make no mention of Melusine, and did not reply to Mrs Ibstock’s enquiry about the fate of the little babe. Sheppard, raising herself, and looking at him as if her life depended upon the answer. Now it is—’ ‘What are you doing still here, missie, that’s what I’d like to know?’ demanded the man Trodger, sticking to his guns. Few men could have done as much. ’ *** In the cosy little parlour that Pottiswick rarely used, Melusine paced restlessly to and fro. But his words were borne away by the driving wind.
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