He turned the water off and handed her a towel. Listening attentively, he fancied he heard the breathing of some one near him, and moved cautiously in the opposite direction. The burden of decision had been transferred. “What is the good of pretending?” she said. “It’s the centre of the intellectuals. White would not approve of callers. The picture might easily apply to The Tigress: outwardly disreputable, but richly and comfortably appointed below. Surely he was imagining this picture. " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. Á bientot—Melusine. One swift glance about the room, and a sensation of grim foreboding swept through him.
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