’ ‘You should be happy that you are not dead,’ she retorted, but with a diminution of the venom and fright in her voice. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. Almost instantly she had recognized the fallacy of such a statement. The lad had just barely jangled it, when hurrying footsteps could be heard inside. But Melusine’s own words had thrown an idea into her head. Nevertheless it was overwhelming. This lady was singularly lucky in her matrimonial connections. Presently he became filled with astonishment over the singular fact that Ruth was eluding him in fancy as well as in reality. ’ ‘Gone off?’ repeated Melusine, her wrongs rising up to tear into her chest.
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