“Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. "Vell," he growled, addressing Quilt, "you know who's here, I suppose?" "To be sure I do," replied Quilt; "my noble friend, the Marquis of Slaughterford. ’ ‘But me, I am not very good with accepting,’ Melusine said bitterly over her shoulder. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt.
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