As if it were she, and not Melusine, who had been hurt by the imposters. He knew she had been weeping. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. ‘You have every right to be angry with me. Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table. "By Heaven!" cried Darrell, "it is the poor fellow whom I placed in such jeopardy a short time ago. Smith, placing his hand on his breast.
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