’ ‘Oh, that tragic pair,’ uttered her ladyship in saddened tones. Melusine soon found herself seated at a table, with a dirty piece of paper in front of her, and a badly mended pen between her fingers. But most of all, I wanted to love. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. What were you doing at Remenham House? I can’t puzzle that bit out. “Yes, I remember,” she said. As if we didn’t know! The practical trouble is our ages. “John, you were never bound to me, you don’t owe me anything. One married as he wished and one against his wishes, and now here was Ann Veronica, his little Vee, discontented with her beautiful, safe, and sheltering home, going about with hatless friends to Socialist meetings and art-class dances, and displaying a disposition to carry her scientific ambitions to unwomanly lengths.
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