Whence she came,—who she was,—and what she wanted,—were questions which naturally suggested themselves to Blueskin, and he was about to seek for some explanation, when his curiosity was checked by a gesture of silence from the lady. Bowing to the stranger, the woollen-draper very politely requested to know his business. Wood trembled. Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love. I spent this afternoon in detention. I’m glad 237 you came over. ’ Melusine giggled. She looked round wildly, as if seeking some source of help, as the boots halted at the front door and the shouting intensified. Winifred, accordingly, left the room, and a servant being despatched to the nearest tavern, soon afterwards returned with a crown bowl of the ambrosian fluid.
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