They had chosen to deliberately and wickedly insult a lady who had done her best to entertain them for many weeks. Melusine stepped back a pace, her gaze fixed on the vision before her. Lady Lescelles, graceful, very fashionably but quietly dressed, leaned back and watched her with shrewd kindly eyes. He walked out into the Champs Elysées and sat down. His literary instincts began to stir. Hastily ascending these steps, Jack found the door, as he anticipated, locked. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. She was greatly heartened by doing this. They seemed to her that morning to be all armed with nets and prepared to throw them over her directly her movements became in any manner truly free. No hair to fall awry, no powder to displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky. They are born idiots, incurably insane. "Let us sit here," she said, indicating the white sand bordering the lagoon; "and in a minute or two you will see something quite wonderful.
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