’ ‘What matters it?’ cried Melusine impatiently. ” “I don’t care how we meet,” she said. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. But always this new phase in life which civilization called convention threw up barrier after barrier. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. It was a different world. CHAPTER XII. ” “You would marry a divorcée?” she asked.
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