Nothing seemed to be amiss. You can pull it over on everybody else, Lucy, but not on me. But of what use to wear it when there was no one of importance to see and admire? ‘For shame, Melusine,’ protested Lucy, as the butler bowed himself out of the room. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. ’ ‘But you say that I was born here,’ objected Melusine.
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