She had all the fascination of being absolutely perplexing in this respect. What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers. She is no longer mine; she is yours. Somewhere in the world there was a book clerk with a discerning mind; for he had given her the best he had. . “You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. In my search after strange characters, Mr. ’ Joy rose in Melusine’s bosom. ’ *** In the cosy little parlour that Pottiswick rarely used, Melusine paced restlessly to and fro. She kept thinking she was thinking about Mr. Jordan and Josiah. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off.
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