"Aw, piffle!" he said, half aloud and rather disgustedly, as he stepped out into the sunshine. But his astonishment would have been great indeed had he known that not even her father had ever caressed her, either with lips or with hands. “I shouldn’t have waited,” she said. Melusine—the real Melusine—would never have made such a stupid mistake. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. Coarse as were the ruffian's notions of feminine beauty, he could not be insensible to the surpassing loveliness of the fair creature, who had thus solicited his attention. She had something of the feeling a Hindoo must experience who has been into surroundings or touched something that offends his caste. "You hesitate—you are deceiving me. Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders.
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