” Chapter XIX “THIS IS NOT THE END” “I said some afternoon,” she remarked, throwing open her warm coat, and taking off her gloves, “but I certainly did not mean to-day. ‘It is imbecile that you are. ’ Melusine remembered a thin man of sour aspect, living—like her father and his wife Suzanne—off the vicomte’s bounty. " Quilt, however, seemed unwilling to speak. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. Every home is a little recess, a niche, out of the world of business and competition, in which women and the future shelter. “I thought I saw her in town to-day,” he said. The intruder was handsomely, even richly, attired in a scarlet riding-suit, embroidered with gold; a broad belt, to which a hanger was attached, crossed his shoulders; his boots rose above his knee, and he carried a laced hat in his hand. "Restore it," he cried, in an authoritative voice.
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