He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. “Don’t know me, eh? I like that. ’ ‘We are not all of us so empty-headed, Melusine,’ pleaded Miss Froxfield. I thank God for His sunlight on your face. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. I wanted the magic of love. ’ She shook her head sadly.
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