She stood up and he sat down at the microscope, and for a time he was busy scrutinizing one section after another. ’ ‘This is not a new thing,’ Melusine snapped, goaded. ’ ‘What if she goes back to Charvill?’ demanded Roding. Only it was with a further and most unbelieving shrug of the shoulders that he resumed his seat. Too late. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. It is the only way. She read on and on, now thrilled by the swiftly moving drama, now enraptured by the tender passages of love. “But why,” he said in the gasping voice of one subduing an agony, and looked at her from under a pain-wrinkled brow, “why did you not tell me this before?” “I didn’t know—I thought I might be able to control myself. " The foregoing conversation, having been conducted throughout in a low tone, and apart, had not reached the ears of Mr. Lucilla shoved Roding out of the way so that she could take hold of Melusine’s hands again. Why can’t you let it be?’ Gerald grinned at him. \" She said, bashful.
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