225 “Sebastianus. Leastways, she’d be your greataunt, wouldn’t she?’ Astounded, Melusine was just about to demand further information, when a commotion outside the room interrupted her. If Winifred remained silent, her looks would have disarmed a person of less assurance than the woollen-draper. . . Let him have his honeymoon. Lost ground must be regained. By the time he had reached the summit of this hill, he had lost all trace of them; and the ardour of the chase having in some measure subsided, he began to reproach himself for his folly, in having wandered—as he conceived—so far out of his course. ‘What, is Nicholas dead?’ He saw the two of them exchange glances and an instinct of danger rose up. She’s as stubborn as the proverbial mule, and—’ with a sigh that felt wrenched out of him ‘—utterly captivating.
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