" "You have no son," rejoined Sir Rowland, moodily. They were suddenly thrown aside, and a man stepped out from his hiding-place. ‘Oh, my God, Melusine, what have I done?’ Melusine shook her head. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. I want to leave Paris to-day—this very day. We can get absorbed in play, in games, in the business we do. If I could but——” To escape from her thoughts she began to undress, humming a light tune to herself, though her eyes were hot with unshed tears, and the sobs kept rising in her throat. She looked in the glass over and over as she checked for lint and makeup streaks. Then to the Feathers, in Drury Lane. ‘Give me an opportunity to open my mouth, and I will.
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