It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. Ruth crossed over to the dramatist of this tragicomedy and put a hand on his shoulder. “What night will you dine and go to the theatre with me?—and how about Hurlingham on Saturday?” Anna shook her head. Then Melusine jumped back into the fencer’s pose, on guard, the point of the wicked blade directed towards her enemy. He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side. ” “Perhaps not,” she answered. ’ ‘We had other matters on hand this morning,’ Roding told him sharply. ” “Surely,” he protested, “the change is all in favour of your own inclinations. She rested her head upon his shoulder.
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