"Time to dress for dinner," said Ruth from behind the curtain. This niggardliness compelled him to cross and recross streets. “No,” she said, under her breath, “you can’t face it. ’ ‘Why should I?’ ‘Because I can’t live without you!’ ‘That is your own affair, and—’ Melusine broke off, staring at him, shocked realisation kicking in her gut. She was dressed for the street very much as her own maid was accustomed to dress, and there was a thick veil attached to her hat. The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady. “You will go and see her,” he begged.
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