’ ‘Melusine, sir,’ Gerald reminded the general, exchanging a frustrated glance with Mrs Sindlesham. ’ Melusine sat slowly down again, looking him over thoughtfully. Here was a little corner of the past—a tragic corner. The boy was coming around. He hated the taste of it. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. "Ah!" he exclaimed, in a tone of anguish. He could lose himself for hours at a time. Taking this for encouragement, her suitor proceeded still more extravagantly. ’ ‘Lord, man, it’s only a scratch!’ Suddenly Gerald snapped his fingers.
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