The doctor frowned. ‘Rather thought I’d have to disarm you when you heard of it. The word "criticism" had no concrete meaning to her then; no more than "compromise. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. "No more, please! I am bewildered enough. "If this document is correct," continued Wood, "and I am persuaded it is so,— you are as unfortunate as wicked. Melusine shrugged. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct.
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