Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. He came into the club next day, and of course we went for him thick. She receded into the entryway, opening her palm and gesturing as if there were an imaginary red carpet rolled out for visitors. She kept her face downcast. Melusine’s eyes blazed into his. From then on he was Ruth's dog. Not a word passed between them. ” “Tut!” he said, fuming, and put out his hand to the papers in the pink tape. F.
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