” “Act two,” she continued. This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. “I think that I will leave this letter for him,” she said. Indeed, she did not want to think of him as loving her. ’ Chapter Six Creeping along the dark narrow passage, with lantern held well ahead to keep her step steady on the uneven stones—and to warn her of the advent of rats— Melusine kept her long petticoats fastidiously clear of the dirt with an efficient hand, a habit she had learned in the convent. ‘His granddaughter?’ ‘Yes, his son’s daughter. He shot at me at the ‘Unusual,’ and the magistrates bound him over to keep the peace. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside.
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