It was said, that he received an affront from James, in the shape of a public reprimand, which his pride could not forgive. He slapped his knee. He heard Melusine cry out, but his attention was all for the nick he had made in her neck. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. Her interest grew as she read, a certain distaste disappeared. . . "At length I am my own master," murmured the knight, as his foot touched the strand. Here, it might be anything at all. Your old rooms are there, if you choose.
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