If he had imagined Melusine would be hampered by her petticoats, he was disappointed. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. They can’t help seeing things in the way they do. She felt her own body stir, ready for more. Reverse psychology or something, it’s like she was trying to draw him nearer by pushing him away. At least, I hope so for his sake as well as my own," he added, mentally. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters.
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