’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky. The Times slipped from his fingers. "These writer chaps are queer birds. McClintock does it; and he knows why. “We will see that he never annoys you. " "I have. ’ ‘Comment?’ she demanded with some heat. It is a precaution merely. “What’s odd?” “Oh, everything!” She shivered, and went to the fire and poked it. She felt him as something solid and strong and trustworthy beyond measure. Neither did his interest,—which was by no means inconsiderable,—nor his general popularity, procure him the preferment he desired. Dunstable’s contributions to the conversation were entirely in the form of nods; whenever Alderman Dunstable praised or blamed she nodded twice or thrice, according to the requirements of his emphasis.
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