" "Nay, if you're bent upon this folly," observed Wild, who appeared to have his own reasons for humouring the lad, "I shan't hinder you. ’ She set down her glass with a snap. ’ ‘Eh bien, you are not a saint,’ Melusine snapped. ‘It must be painful. " Ah Cum shrugged. She drifted northward from the Strand, and came on some queer and dingy quarters. “By-the-bye, Lady Ferringhall,” he said, “do you know that I am a very great admirer of your sister’s? I wonder if she has ever spoken to you of me. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page.
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