This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. ‘There is no question of a dispute. This I know, for the Valades have taught me so, and the nuns also. ‘You mean that there is a rival Melusine to the one he has heard about? He does not. What is it?" "Is there anything I can do?" The idiocy of the question filled him with the craving of laughter. Do not let her think worse of me than I deserve,—or even so ill. And as he gave back the portfolio to Sir Rowland he contrived, unobserved, to slip the precious document into his sleeve, and from thence into his pocket. “I have nothing to say to you. "Is it you?" "It is," replied Sheppard, as he untied the cords.
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