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‘Do not beg his pardon,’ intervened Melusine quickly, coming between them. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. "It was given me by a man who was drinking t'other night with Blueskin at the Lion! and who, though he slouched his hat over his eyes, and muffled his chin in a handkerchief, must have been Jonathan Wild. ‘Can I not leave you for a day without you getting yourself into trouble?’ ‘Imbecile,’ she uttered faintly. And this damning evidence―’ with a brusque gesture at the portrait ‘―must also be destroyed. So there is no escape. Her voice was weak and flat. ” She lifted her eyebrows. That terrible laughter, just before his senses had left him! Why? Here was a word that volleyed at her from all directions, numbed and bewildered her: the multiple echoes of her own first utterance of the word. Opposite to her was a sallow-visaged young man, whose small tie seemed like a smudge of obtusively shiny black across the front of a high close-drawn collar. ‘Might have forgiven him,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘if he hadn’t taken the babe. ” “It is within yours—if anybody’s,” he answered.
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