She glared at him with satisfaction. . ’ Grasping the lantern, and heedless now of the discomforts of the passage, Melusine flew like the wind back towards the library, the vision of Jack Kimble’s white face driving her on. A disagreeable young man, with red hair and a loose mouth, seated at the reporter’s table, was only too manifestly sketching her. He winced from the wasp-like sting. ‘You don’t mean to say she’s here?’ ‘Was,’ Gerald corrected. “As things are at present,” she said, “it is true. The young officer sat in front, his hat perfectly straight. I’m glad you could come. It would have been very well if she had been some common creature who might have been bought off. She met his eyes for a moment, and could not interpret their expression. Well, whenever you say, I promise to do away with the mystery. “What have I been all this time?” she asked herself, and answered, “Just stark egotism, crude assertion of Ann Veronica, without a modest rag of religion or discipline or respect for authority to cover me!” It seemed to her as though she had at last found the touchstone of conduct. “Michelle, I think that you are the victim of an extremely overactive imagination.
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