’ *** In the cosy little parlour that Pottiswick rarely used, Melusine paced restlessly to and fro. He had brought the shrubs down from Syria, and, strangely enough, they had prospered. Wood, who were, furthermore, engaged in a little conjugal tête-à-tête of their own. “Well,” she said. But, when the sound of the carriage-wheels died away, and he felt that she was actually gone, his resolution failed him, and he rang the bell violently. I was supposed to do the same, but I didn’t. Now tell them why.
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