When she told him that the natives called her The Dawn Pearl, his delight was unbounded. "Help! help!" "You call in vain," returned Kneebone. The library was on the ground floor, Melusine recalled from the previous visit, for she had searched through a desk in a room filled with bookshelves of leatherbound volumes. Water poured into her eyes, nose, and mouth in a torrent from which she had to turn and wheeze. She raised this with the air of a conspirator unmasking, and displayed a tear-flushed face. “Unless you have an appointment, which you haven’t,” he said, “you’ll only waste your time here. I’ll try to stay as long as I can. We've got to make him take up the harp of life and go twanging it again. Indeed I must. "Because it's not like you," was her answer.
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