. ’ Melusine’s heart leapt, raced for a moment, and suddenly dropped again. ’ Melusine sank against the wall of the corridor, closing her eyes. Her fingers were bursting through her gloves, as if to get at once into touch with Ann Veronica. She was to fall back amongst the ruck, a young woman of talent, content perhaps to earn a scanty living by painting Christmas cards, or teaching at a kindergarten. What sort of a standard of life yours may be I do not know, yet in your heart you know very well that every word you have spoken to me has been a veiled insult, every time you have come into my presence has been an outrage. But there was nothing in her bearing that a passer-by would have noted, to tell of the excitement that possessed her. He meant to take her out of this room, perhaps even out of the house. And now, let's see who'll refuse the pledge. You have your work before you, and I——” He kissed her on the lips. “Nothing can cheer me,” he said, “except champagne. ‘Idiot!’ ‘Enough, now! Softly, you little termagant,’ he ordered, seizing her wrists to hold her off. They would be quite as entertaining as the histories of Guzman D'Alfarache, Lazarillo de Tormes, Estevanillo Gonzalez, Meriton Latroon, or any of my favourite rogues,—and far more instructive. The one fault, indeed, of this school of fiction for him was that it had rather a light way with parental rights.
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