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" She paused. " "For shame, Mr. ’ Amazed, Melusine stared at him. ” “No doubt. ’ He thought a wary look came into her face, but it was difficult to be sure. Melusine stepped back a pace, her gaze fixed on the vision before her. It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl. “Didn’t you know he was married?” asked Miss Klegg, and was struck by a thought that made her glance quickly at her companion.
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