“P. It was high afternoon, there was no great throng of footpassengers, and many an eye from omnibus and pavement rested gratefully on her fresh, trim presence as she passed young and erect, with the light of determination shining through the quiet self-possession of her face. Drowning, her brain dizzy, Melusine clung to the source of the flooding warmth, her hands, no longer forcibly held, moving without will about the firm back. At the recollection that it was his, she seemed to fall through a thin surface, as one might fall through the crust of a lava into glowing depths. If you don’t think it would be a social outrage, perhaps I might walk with you to your railway station. On weighing the matter over, he grew so uneasy that he resolved to descend, and inform him of his misgivings. ‘Before she can think of marriage, Melusine must prove her identity.
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