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It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. Balked, Melusine halted. “I do not lay claim,” he continued, “to any remarkable amount of insight, but it is possible, is it not, that I have stumbled upon your present cause of distress. ” A fair-haired young Englishman looked up from the depths of his easy chair. She brought Sebastian’s chloroformed rag up to his face with her right. He had got here at speed by that means. “It is not, of course, a pleasant subject of conversation for you or for me, yet I think I may venture to suggest to you that your sister’s—er—indiscretions—have reached a point which makes a separation between you almost a necessity. ” “It is an accident,” he answered.
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