‘She?’ ‘Damnation!’ He saw her frown, and added at once, ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. Now then, missie—’ ‘Bon,’ said Melusine, interrupting him without ceremony, and paying no attention to the muskets that were pointing at her from two directions. Will you marry me?” Anna looked at him in blank amazement. Perhaps I've been mad all these years; I don't know. But, by Jove! it’s going to make our loving a fiercely abstract thing.
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