When she awoke, her husband held her hand as 31 Sebastianus urged her to drink weak wine. Next moment, he had Melusine by the arm. As soon as he had read it, he let it fall from his grasp. She thrust at him, following, almost spitting him as he crashed against the altar, rocking the huge candlesticks and the vessels that stood on it. He put down his hat and umbrella, rested his hands on his hips, and regarded Ann Veronica firmly. He never said hello, as if it had become a personal taboo for him. She read on and on, now thrilled by the swiftly moving drama, now enraptured by the tender passages of love. The young lady in the bureau said she would inquire, and Ann Veronica, while she affected to read the appeal on a hospital collecting-box upon the bureau counter, had a disagreeable sense of being surveyed from behind by a small, whiskered gentleman in a frock-coat, who came out of the inner office and into the hall among a number of equally observant green porters to look at her and her bags. Every man in her life had betrayed her one way or another.
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