Melusine saw fire in his eyes and a streak of heat rushed through her to match it. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. He was no match for Brendon. See? Down we should rush in a foam—in a cloud of snow—to flight and a dream. Part 8 “Why should I ever come back?” she said to herself, as she went down the staircase. To buy the freedom of a poor little Chinese slave-girl! For what was the sing-song girl but a slave, the double slave of custom and of men? Ruth wanted to know keenly what had impelled the idea. “How odd that I should almost spring into your arms just on my doorstep!” she remarked gaily.
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