Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. ‘What can I do, miss?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ cried Melusine. The brilliant sunshine poured through the window, effecting an oblong block of mote-swimming light. "So it appears," replied Marvel. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. I proceeded to Manchester, to investigate the matter further, and when there ascertained, beyond a doubt, that you were the eldest daughter of Sir Montacute Trenchard. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. In the hall below she could hear his firm voice giving quick commands to the servants.
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