’ ‘It’s too late for that,’ Gerald told her evenly. ’ ‘But—’ ‘Do not argue with me, but go at once,’ ordered Melusine swiftly, taking a high tone intended to subdue the independent spirit Kimble had lately shown himself to possess. ” She smiled at him, an understanding smile, but her words defied him. Hang the wench! Roding was right. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk.
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