Mr. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. And not on Melusine’s account, but to see Prudence, who had no use for a cavalier. She spoke with an entirely false note of cheerful offhandedness. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. ‘She wants me to marry her. He HAD followed her! What had he followed her for? He must have followed her all the way from beyond Grosvenor Square. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work. My own impression is that he already knows. Whether they are loved or unloved has no bearing upon this desire to test their wings, to try this new adventure, to take this leap into the dark. “I hope that whatever your plans may be, you will give me the opportunity of seeing something of you now and then. ’ ‘But—’ ‘Do not argue with me, but go at once,’ ordered Melusine swiftly, taking a high tone intended to subdue the independent spirit Kimble had lately shown himself to possess.
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