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Then she moved towards the door. That was the inconvenience of it; her head was swimming. But it is all over now, and presently there will be some one else. His hand traveled below her loose neckline, and he cupped her round breast in his hand. The poor old imbecile! Why, this child was a firebrand, a wrecker, if ever he had seen one; and the worst kind because she was unconscious of her gifts. Tell me a story—with apple-blossoms in it—about people who are happy. Melusine shrugged. He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself.
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