‘Melusine. ’ ‘Pottiswick, you mean, miss?’ ‘Yes, yes. Manning,” she said, “I HAVE a confession to make. ” The cabman, knocking with the butt end of his whip upon the window, reminded her that he was in a similar predicament. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. Her companion was a portly handsome man, also dressed in a full suit of the deepest mourning, with the finest of lace at his bosom and wrists, and a sword in a black sheath by his side.
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