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His conscience never told him to go back and take his punishment; it tortured him only in regard to the deed itself. Swiftly he looked back to Melusine and found she had whisked to the window, dragging a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve and hastily blowing her nose. It was easy enough to lie to anyone else. He did like her, anyhow; he was always pleased to be with her. He had a handsome, jolly-looking face; stood six feet two in his stockings; and measured more than a cloth-yard shaft across the shoulders—athletic proportions derived from his father the dragoon. “It’s settled. "Thanks," he said, holding out a thin white hand.
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