She was obliged, as she explained continually to every one who cared to listen, to be so very particular. "Thank you; but I've a pocket full of water-chestnuts. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. Chapter Eleven Melusine’s limbs nearly gave way beneath her. The mock astonishment of his face immediately became genuine. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. Torment! And so Ruth discovered him. I shall make no defence.
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