She hoped that he would at long last remember his young male pride. So, you see—’ ‘Do not say any more,’ Melusine uttered, flinging away and moving to the fireplace. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. She ignored it until it repeated itself. He wore a silk hat a little tilted, and a morning coat buttoned round a tight, contained figure; and a white slip gave a finish to his costume and endorsed the quiet distinction of his tie. He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. “Rubbish!” he answered. You don’t know, Anna, but when one is in danger one realizes that the— the other side of the line is Hell.
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