’ Chapter Six Creeping along the dark narrow passage, with lantern held well ahead to keep her step steady on the uneven stones—and to warn her of the advent of rats— Melusine kept her long petticoats fastidiously clear of the dirt with an efficient hand, a habit she had learned in the convent. Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. It was a great relief to arrive at last at that pause when she could say to her aunt, “Now, dear?” and rise and hold back the curtain through the archway. “This is MY thing,” said Ann Veronica, softly, with thoughtful eyes upon him. Bravo!—the best cly-faker of 'em all couldn't have done it better. The child was still safe.
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