‘Do not beg his pardon,’ intervened Melusine quickly, coming between them. Drenched to the skin,—in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,—and chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move. “Beasts!” But Miss Miniver took no notice of his admission. “The plain common-sense of the case,” he said, “is that we can’t possibly be lovers in the ordinary sense. He dressed mechanically; so many moves this way, so many moves that. The honey on his tongue turned to ashes. It would be swindling. For a few minutes, she appeared scarcely sensible of his presence.
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