’ ‘But you say that I was born here,’ objected Melusine. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. These were the Master's body-guard. ‘Idiot!’ ‘Enough, now! Softly, you little termagant,’ he ordered, seizing her wrists to hold her off. She thought of the smiles she would gather when she brought forth his first grandson.
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