Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back. Had he been sick in the mind when he had done this damnable thing? It did not seem possible, for he could recall clearly all he had said and done; there were no blank spaces to give him one straw of excuse. She turned off the light and approached the window. The strong fingers of one hand secured both her wrists there, and Melusine found herself chest to chest with him as he threw off his hat, and began to pat at her petticoat, searching for tell-tale protrusions. “Who, me? I scare you?” He asked. "The gentleman is a stranger to me, Poll," replied the woollen-draper, with increased embarrassment. But his words were borne away by the driving wind.
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