Lord Charvill’s sense of justice would not, however, allow him to repudiate his granddaughter, if indeed this female proved to be the infant lost to the family so many years ago. “Excellent!” he exclaimed. Only old librarians and Shirley Temples say that. A door in this house opened upon the yard. Probably a sick man's whim. The strong fingers of one hand secured both her wrists there, and Melusine found herself chest to chest with him as he threw off his hat, and began to pat at her petticoat, searching for tell-tale protrusions. After that night she made it a habit. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. “No, I’m fine.
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