Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. “I wonder,” he said, “how you would like to be made love to—boldly or timorously or sentimentally. ‘What was you wanting it for, may I ask?’ ‘You may not ask, for it is none of your affair,’ Melusine snapped. It was that somebody had cheated you. CHAPTER I. Once in the room, the door locked, the sense of loneliness had dropped away from her as the mists used to drop away from the mountain in the morning. He stood back, smiling with an air of proprietorship, and looking about him at the business-like equipment of the room.
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