Daily contact with actual human beings all the more inclined her toward the imaginative. Presently he felt motion. “Some day you will be my wife, and it would not be well for either of us to remember that in these unhappy days you and I were separated. ‘Couldn’t reconcile it with my dooty to leave you here—’ A thought made Melusine stop dead, turning to him. His lawful wife; but nothing more; beyond that she was only an idea, a trust. . . He could not tell whether she was English or American. “Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud. . We leave England to-night. She could see that she was now the exclusive object of the boy’s attention.
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