Turning to Melusine, he grabbed both her wrists and held her away from him, as if afraid that she might go for him. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. No wonder that Trenchard, as he gazed at this fearful being, should have some misgivings cross him. Not a moment is to be lost. Return to him, I say—" "I can't," replied Jack, doggedly. " "Well," replied her son; "and you spurn the proposal. “Nothing so base.
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