Her eyes were lit with smouldering passion. Swiftly he looked back to Melusine and found she had whisked to the window, dragging a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve and hastily blowing her nose. Jack, whose back was towards it, did not see it; but he heard, from the pitying exclamations of the crowd, that it was in view. He destroyed her clumsily made dolls whenever he found them. He walked across the Park and called upon his sister. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account.
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