‘You know what I am about,’ exclaimed Melusine impatiently. On his way he made a slight divergence from the direct route and paused for a moment outside the flat where Anna was now living. It ran in rivulets down her face, penetrating her hood and the thick quilting of her coat. “John,” she declared, “I must eat or die. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. As a dog eats grass. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination.
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