The pole-chair caravan resumed its journey. Perhaps she had found this new thing in life, the thing wonderful. Thames returned no answer. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. If he had imagined Melusine would be hampered by her petticoats, he was disappointed. Sometimes these dreams are simple and tender; sometimes they are magnificent. ‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald. Moments, indeed! We like each other fresh and fresh.
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