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You would steal from me then the only man I ever cared a snap of the fingers about. ’ ‘Parbleu,’ burst from Melusine indignantly. I do not believe that you will marry David Courtlaw. He got out in much the same way from the Gatehouse,—stole the keys, and passed through a room where I was sitting half-asleep in a chair. “Do you believe me now?” She asked. ” “You may be sure of the one,” she murmured. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose.
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