’ ‘Merci,’ she sighed and, surrendering at last to his oft-proffered aid, allowed her head to droop onto his chest. He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt. Melusine dashed them away, but they kept on coming. Sometimes a whole morning would pass without Spurlock uttering a word beyond the request for a drink of water. " "What proof have you that I am?"—was the return bolt. Wood. The perfume was the only one she ever used. ” She realized it was possible to be sorry for him—acutely sorry for the situation. ’ ‘No, you are a gentleman,’ she agreed.
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