There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor. The packets were hastily broken open; and, while Wood was absorbed in the perusal of the despatch addressed to him by Sir Rowland, Thames sought out, and found the letter which he had been prevented from finishing on the fatal night at Jonathan Wild's. ‘Oh, my God, Melusine, what have I done?’ Melusine shook her head. After a while, he raised his eyes; and, if their glance could have been witnessed at the moment, it could not have been easily forgotten. He spent the remainder of the afternoon looking for a friend whom he found at last in the billiard room of one of the smaller clubs to which he belonged.
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