But Gerald kept to a casual note. That was one of the mysterious qualities of this child of the lagoon: she had always at instant service that Oriental mask of impenetrable calm that no Occidental trick could dislodge. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. ‘Do not think—’ he panted, ‘that I am finished—with you, mademoiselle. ‘As to that, I am at this moment altogether displeased with Gérard, you understand,’ Melusine temporised. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. " "Nor I," returned Ireton, following his example: "and I've had some experience too.
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