. CHAPTER XVI. ‘Why?’ ‘Why take me to France? Why trouble himself with me, when so easily he could leave me to this Monsieur Remenham to keep?’ To Melusine’s instant suspicion, Martha bit her lip, drew a breath, and avoided her charge’s gaze. Her softly intertwined fingers became rigid. Until this instant, he discovered, he had thought of Melusine’s plan only in a nebulous fashion, a naïve girl’s dream. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. He had something across his knees. ‘I told you I could handle her. For this three weeks had been the hardest of her life. ” “I believe you,” she murmured. And yet, she would be easy prey in her present state of mind to any plausible, attractive scoundrel.
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