Shocked, Melusine shot out of that blanketing warmth of sensation. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. One glance through the window at that picturesque head had been sufficient. The whole neighbourhood was disturbed. Wood fancied he heard the exulting laugh of Jonathan Wild. Not that he deliberately courted danger; it was rather the searcher, seeking analysis, the why and wherefore of this or that invading emotion. ‘And I’d like to know what the devil—’ ‘Out of town?’ repeated Melusine, stupefied. . . The young fellow was almost as odd in his way as the girl was in hers. Never. ‘To find what?’ demanded Gerald. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention.
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