’ His finger came out and Melusine felt it stroke her cheek. “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. She knew, or guessed his mission too, for more than once their eyes met, and she laughed mockingly at him. His inclinations prompted him most decidedly to take the vacant chair. “Won’t you give me your address?” She shook her head.
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