That night a grave was dug in Willesden churchyard, next to that in which Mrs. Let—it—fall. "Take this key to Baptist Kettleby. And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit. All at once Melusine remembered Pottiswick, and the errand he had run. There'll be busy days and idle. “By-the-bye, Lady Ferringhall,” he said, “do you know that I am a very great admirer of your sister’s? I wonder if she has ever spoken to you of me. Then she threw the volume away with a little impatient exclamation. She began to miss him when he was gone during the day and cherish the quiet times he spent only with her. 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. It engulfed them in black, white, and gray.
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