“You delicate female!” “Who cares,” said Ann Veronica, “seeing it’s you? Warm, soft little wonders! Of course I want them. ‘Odd sort of a nun. ’ The lady frowned suspiciously. ” “I know. ‘You mean that there is a rival Melusine to the one he has heard about? He does not. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. ‘Cousin? But I am a fool. "There!" she cried, laughing, "that'll teach you to lay hands upon me again. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. .
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