In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. " "Keep it," said Trenchard, haughtily. I loitered in the shop as you chatted with the butcher’s girl. Will you forgive me—if I say no more?” She looked at him with perplexed, earnest eyes. She watched, puzzled, as her cavalier frowned at the newcomer, glancing from him to Melusine and back again. ’ Melusine withdrew her hand. Sometimes it seemed to him that he was an impostor: that Ruth believed him to be one Howard Spurlock, when he was only masquerading as Spurlock. Probably a sick man's whim.
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