While he was stirring his tea, she ran and fetched the comb. Through all this flutter of novelty there came and went a solicitous, preoccupied, almost depressed figure. And so —’ ‘And so she was able to become my—’ Melusine did not say it, for wet-nurse no longer seemed appropriate. “You were never born,” he declared, “to follow the well worn roads. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness.
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