“Beautiful these autumn flowers are,” said Ann Veronica, in a wide, uncomfortable pause. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. Say that I will call again or let him know my address in London. But the morning brought courage again, and those first intimations of horror vanished completely from her mind. At last, a little way to the northward of Euston Road, the moral cloud seemed to lift, the moral atmosphere to change; clean blinds appeared in the windows, clean doorsteps before the doors, a different appeal in the neatly placed cards bearing the word ————————————— | APARTMENTS ————————————— | in the clear bright windows. I have held people spellbound—in confidence, so that we may be sure of its spreading like wildfire—with an account of all Melusine’s activities, and—’ Horror filled Melusine and she jumped up.
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