‘Good. ‘It is not your affair. “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. An old man and a young girl, the one as stubbornly offensive as the other. Here was the place behind the shed where she had used to hide from Roddy’s persecutions, and here the border of herbaceous perennials under whose stems was fairyland. . ’ Melusine shrugged, and crossed to the plain door beside which hung a bell. I am something of an old fogey, Anna, I’m afraid, but if you treat me like this you will teach me to forget it. Every care had been taken of it, as well as of himself, by the humane inmates of the house in which he had sought shelter. Secretly she was gratified to be assigned to the rôle of an old traveller.
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