I shall find him yet. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. She pushed the former and it opened. The vestry was perhaps the only room in the place, except her allotted curtained off portion of the dormitory chamber that served for her cell—and she could not scandalise the nuns by having a man in there, be he never so much a servant—where Melusine could be sure of privacy. He has no imagination, no real generosity. He was holding the ring to the light, and narrowly examining the inscription. The expression was wholly different.
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