“I don’t think I shall. The inn was a military haunt. Your disobedience be upon your own head. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. ’ Melusine had crossed to the window that overlooked the front of the house, and was trying to peep through a crack in the shutters. Only an undermaid I was then. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. Ramage, I came here—I didn’t suppose for one moment you would dare —” “Nonsense! That is your mistake! You are too intellectual. Oh, to face facts! Gods! what a world it might be if people faced facts! Understanding! Understanding! There is no other salvation. “You’ll have to take her!” shouted an inspector on horseback, and she echoed his cry: “You’ll have to take me!” They seized upon her and lifted her, and she screamed. I must tell you all about God’s land, this marvellous virgin country, with its silent forests and dazzling peaks. “If you speak—farewell. “There’s endless reasons, no doubt, why we shouldn’t,” he said. But her great-aunt was nodding, as if this was what she had expected.
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