‘There was a priest, the father confessor, you understand. Some of my schemes are already in hand. Nobody ever called me John, that I recollect. She had now the clear and tranquil expression of one whose mind is made up. ’ ‘Oh, have you?’ grunted Gerald, surprising in himself a surge of some odd emotion at these words. ’ Melusine did not reply. Five minutes ago, his butler had entered the green saloon, an austere apartment, with dark forest-green wallpaper flocked with a swirling design, and heavy mahogany furniture. She had had two days of employment-seeking now. He carried her in his arms up the steps, like a bride on her honeymoon. Perhaps the sunken cheeks and the protruding cheekbones gave her this impression. The queer phase of the dream was this, she was at no time a woman; she was symbolical of something, and he followed to learn what this something was.
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