Chapter Eight For an instant in the silence that followed, shocked into immobility, Melusine stared in horror at the body lying there so still. Nevertheless, she could not prevent a rising excitement as the dawn of the new life drew near to her—a thrilling of the nerves, a secret and delicious exaltation above the common circumstances of existence. He loved the sea, and could give a good account of himself in any weather. “I shall not speak,” he said, “now or at any other time. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. It was bleeding again. “Want to see my fangs?” She asked.
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