’ Martha got up with a swish of her black habit. "Eh-day! what's this?" cried Wood, looking up from beneath his spectacles. It was wrenched away from Melusine’s clutching hands. Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak. From head to foot he was attired in the fashionable garb of the young man of the moment. Before a year has expired, you will share the same fate.
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