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’ Melusine had crossed to the window that overlooked the front of the house, and was trying to peep through a crack in the shutters. She had arranged for a supper of tea, a boiled egg, and some tinned peaches. It was always jabbing him with white-hot barbs, waking or sleeping. The light touch of Ah Cum's hand upon her arm broke the thread of retrospective thought; and her gray eyes began to register again the things she saw. Suddenly she understood. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. Ruth will be a gold mine for a man of your peculiar bent. She handled it half fearfully, and set it carefully down again. ‘Never would he have gone to England. . . ’ ‘Poor sort of a mother,’ Martha said with bitterness. Figg?" asked Gay.

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