Wood, Sir," he added, with much emotion, "is one of the best of men, and would be the happiest, were it not that—" and he hesitated. We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. I was rude and stupid. I suppose if one were to love some one, one would feel doubtful. McClintock did not exaggerate his ability to read faces. ’ ‘I thought you were dead,’ Melusine confided.
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