"I knew that would bring him to," thought Wild. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. Melusine made no reply. Also Lucy, who had been so much her friend. His sword-arm fell useless at his side and she knew herself safe. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. Over the Lodge, upon a dial was inscribed the appropriate motto, "Venio sicut fur. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. ‘We will converse in your own tongue,’ he said in French as he led her away.
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