” “I knew it,” Ennison exclaimed. It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl. He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face. Can you afford to give this time? There are your own affairs to think of. You only live a block away!” 236 “I’ll do my best. “It is true,” he said, “that I was dining last night at a restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiennes, and it is true that my companion was a young lady whose name is Pellissier. Though nearly dark, there was still light enough left to enable him to discern surrounding objects. Melusine cast one swift glance at it, and her eyes, flashing magnificently, came back to his face.
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