He groaned, much to Melusine’s relief. She heard the rats scattering across the stone as dirt fell into the crypt. "So endeth the first lesson," he said. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. Melusine cast one swift glance at it, and her eyes, flashing magnificently, came back to his face. Not a bark could be discerned on the river, except those already mentioned. Whenever McClintock had guests, he loafed with them on the west veranda in the morning. "You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight.
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