She seemed to think he was merely the paymaster, handing over the means of her freedom. ’ Melusine had crossed to the window that overlooked the front of the house, and was trying to peep through a crack in the shutters. Spurlock had found the typewriter, oiled and cleaned it, and began to practise on it in the night. She never had been much of a looker, but she had stopped worrying about such things long ago. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child.
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