Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. A light was visible in the garret, feebly struggling through the damp atmosphere, for the night was raw and overcast. Blue Ruin will do the job nicely. ‘Because he knows you for an imposter,’ Melusine flashed. She had denied it with vigor, and here she was! She did not so much exhaust this general question as pass from it to her insoluble individual problem again: “What am I to do?” She wanted first of all to fling the forty pounds back into Ramage’s face. It might be upset. Old Bedlam 291 IX.
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