She wanted to think. But this plan (probably from its danger) was instantly abandoned; not, however, before her momentary hesitation had been taken advantage of by her pursuers, who, redoubling their efforts at this juncture, materially lessened the distance between them. She fell asleep instantaneously, fatigued from weeks of exhaustion. ‘That is true,’ Melusine conceded. She would never love him as she loved Capes, of course, but there are grades and qualities of love. She had denied it with vigor, and here she was! She did not so much exhaust this general question as pass from it to her insoluble individual problem again: “What am I to do?” She wanted first of all to fling the forty pounds back into Ramage’s face.
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