The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. ’ ‘I didn’t say I did not enjoy it,’ Gerald protested. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws. Now that she was his, to make or mar, she presented an extraordinary fascination. “You are in trouble,” he said.
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