The Times slipped from his fingers. “Her husband was a county councillor, and she has a niece who comes to see her in a carriage. ‘Jacques!’ Melusine dropped to her haunches beside his inert form, feeling for the wound. Just as the clergyman approached the altar, she perceived a boy steal quickly into the church, and ensconce himself behind the woollen-draper, who, in order to carry on his amatory pursuits with greater convenience, and at the same time display his figure (of which he was not a little vain) to the utmost advantage, preferred a standing to a sitting posture. If I could but——” To escape from her thoughts she began to undress, humming a light tune to herself, though her eyes were hot with unshed tears, and the sobs kept rising in her throat.
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