He was not a sailor. “Oh, Ann Veronica!” he cried, “I cannot let you go like this! You don’t understand. By the time he had reached the summit of this hill, he had lost all trace of them; and the ardour of the chase having in some measure subsided, he began to reproach himself for his folly, in having wandered—as he conceived—so far out of his course. “I’ll go,” he said, “but I warn you that I shall find you out. I'm nearly nabbing you. ‘She?’ ‘Damnation!’ He saw her frown, and added at once, ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am. ‘What can I do, miss?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ cried Melusine.
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