"Your audacity passes belief," cried the latter, as soon as his surprise would allow him utterance. It wasn’t. Ennison roused himself with an effort, took a long drink from his whisky and soda, and lit a cigarette. What can she be? The wife of a country tradesman, or a duchess? And such a meek little husband too. ’ They passed through a little antechamber, and Melusine sighed with relief as she entered the library next door. To-night we leave for Marseilles. I worship you. John was acutely focused upon her now, just as she had wanted him to be. She found a clean sweatshirt and soft pajama pants, glad to trade the wet for the dry. She knew the significance: the red corpuscle was being burnt out by the fires of alcohol. It was the very spot from which his poor mother had gazed after her vain attempt to rescue him at the Mint; but, though he was ignorant of this, her image was alone present to him.
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