“I really do not believe,” he announced with satisfaction, “that any one would recognize me. In the grate were some charred fragments of a marriage certificate. And she buried herself beneath the straw, which she tossed above her head with the wildest gestures. Supposing I made up my mind to marry some one of good enough family, but who was in a somewhat doubtful position, concerning whose antecedents, in fact there was a certain amount of scandal. The blow had brought him back to the realm of sober thought. So far, however, was this submission from producing the desired effect, that it seemed only to lend additional fuel to her displeasure. Swiftly he looked back to Melusine and found she had whisked to the window, dragging a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve and hastily blowing her nose.
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