" "I had to. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. She hated being angry, the uselessness of it all, the frustration. She recognized him as the man who had blundered into the wrong room. She watched, puzzled, as her cavalier frowned at the newcomer, glancing from him to Melusine and back again. You don't realize what you have done. He turned, expecting to see his wife. Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy. " As this was said, Jack turned with the swiftness of thought, and shortening his sword, prepared to plunge it into the thief-taker's heart. There was more shouting. He had only to recall this fact (which he did in each crisis) to erect a barrier she could not go around or over.
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