Her mouth at half-cock, Melusine stood there staring at him. On the north stood the battlements of one of the towers of the gate. Ramage looked at her for a long and discriminating interval without speaking. We have him as safe as a linnet in a cage; and could wring his neck round as easily. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. She would never forget the agony of that first meal in the great dining room. She let go of him and stood up, straightening herself. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. "Every inch of it," replied the woollen-draper.
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