” “Why not?” She turned on him. " "Never!" cried Mrs. Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter. “What ought you to do?” He began to produce his knowledge of the world for her benefit, jerkily and allusively, and with a strong, rank flavor of “savoir faire. You have your work before you, and I——” He kissed her on the lips. ‘Couldn’t reconcile it with my dooty to leave you here—’ A thought made Melusine stop dead, turning to him. Her answer was not quite ready. And this clear-visioned child had comprehended that only half the rogues were really ill.
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