‘Doesn’t she, Gerald?’ Gerald held up his hands. But you couldn't. The doctor missed the expression of terror and dismay that flitted across Spurlock's face. A rare moment of amusement lightened Melusine’s mood for a moment. “What night will you dine and go to the theatre with me?—and how about Hurlingham on Saturday?” Anna shook her head. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. E. M.
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