She held up the lamp. How much Mary knew is a mystery. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. It was filled with sopping lichens and green benches too slimy to sit upon. Was the girl seriously expecting him to pull the trigger? Lord, but she had courage! ‘Shoot, then,’ urged the lady. ’ It was immediately evident that Lucilla Froxfield was not as silly as Melusine had thought, for the face of her captain immediately changed and he took her hands, a look on his face that caused Melusine an instant pang.
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