“He fell over at my feet,” she continued. Aware of the cunning and desperate characters of the persons with whom she would have to deal,—aware, also, that she was in a quarter where no laws could be appealed to, nor assistance obtained, she felt the absolute necessity of caution. Something in her lack of embarrassment irritated him. ‘Couldn’t reconcile it with my dooty to leave you here—’ A thought made Melusine stop dead, turning to him. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. She heard this standard expression of a strong soul wrung with a critical coldness that astonished herself. I don’t know why that should be so acutely humiliating.
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