Her fingers were bursting through her gloves, as if to get at once into touch with Ann Veronica. Behind the illustrious personages just described marched a troop of stalwart fellows, with white badges in their hats, quarterstaves, oaken cudgels, and links in their hands. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. ‘You said she was beautiful. I hate to see you spoil yourself with guys like me. ‘You have made a serious mistake, Melusine.
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