He contrasted the lot of women in general with the lot of men, presented men as patient, self-immolating martyrs, and women as the pampered favorites of Nature. “If one half of the stories about Meysey Hill are true,” he answered, “I would not stretch out my little finger to save his life. ‘Couldn’t reconcile it with my dooty to leave you here—’ A thought made Melusine stop dead, turning to him. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. Wood, meanwhile, had summoned his men-servants, and having armed them with such weapons as could be found, they proceeded to the garden, where the first object they encountered was Thames Darrell, extended on the ground, and weltering in his blood.
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