" "I expect no commiseration," returned Mrs. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. He did not look up, so he did not know that in her other hand she held a glass of wine. One peculiarity she did not fail to notice. He took about five minutes. Nor must it be imagined, that while he thus exercised his teeth, he neglected the flagon. ’ A hand seemed to grip in Melusine’s chest and she hit out.
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