The old man Pottiswick, still grumbling, much to Melusine’s disgust, had gone on his errand to his daughter’s house some two miles distant. She felt that perhaps, in her desire to play an adequate part in the conversation, she had talked rather more freely than she ought to have done, and given him a wrong impression of herself. I'm safe enough if you hold your tongue. I shall be delighted to rescue you. And so gentle as the poor creature is, when she's not in her wild fits—it would melt a heart of stone to see her. ‘Why?’ Melusine eyed him dubiously.
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