‘As for your dagger—’ She held out her hand palm up, as if she expected him to give her the weapon. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. Too intent on her search, and convinced besides that she was quite alone, she had been an easy prey. ’ ‘You see, I am of them,’ she said seriously, ‘but not with them—yet. It wasn’t pretty. ’ Chapter Six Creeping along the dark narrow passage, with lantern held well ahead to keep her step steady on the uneven stones—and to warn her of the advent of rats— Melusine kept her long petticoats fastidiously clear of the dirt with an efficient hand, a habit she had learned in the convent. There was no keeping Sheila from the truth, and it was better that anyone who lived under her roof knew it. There was a long silence between them.
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