The strong fingers of one hand secured both her wrists there, and Melusine found herself chest to chest with him as he threw off his hat, and began to pat at her petticoat, searching for tell-tale protrusions. ‘But—’ ‘Nothing at all for you to worry your head over,’ said the captain, moving to try and usher her forth. She was crushed with a sense of her own terrible impotency. Her knees were trembling, her whole frame was shaken with sobs. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described.
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