She suspected that he would take a mistress just as soon as they returned to Florence. ” He smiled bitterly as he handed her from the cab. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. ‘She won’t. He said nothing. Why open my mouth if there might not be a need for it when all’s said?’ Melusine acknowledged the logic of this. “They all catch on,” she said. She was struck by a change in his appearance. Constance Widgett’s abundant copper-red hair was bent down over some dimly remunerative work—stencilling in colors upon rough, white material—at a kitchen table she had dragged up-stairs for the purpose, while on her bed there was seated a slender lady of thirty or so in a dingy green dress, whom Constance had introduced with a wave of her hand as Miss Miniver. She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least.
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