"My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. Rain pounded the tin roof, and waterfalls obscured the pavilion into its own private 91 chamber. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. ‘Why have you come in here?’ demanded Melusine, turning on him. He had now reached what was called the Lower Leads,—a flat, covering a part of the prison contiguous to the gateway, and surrounded on all sides by walls about fourteen feet high. Do I, Bess, eh?" "Nobody whatever, love," replied Edgeworth Bess; "nobody but me, dear.
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