She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. “Flesh and flowers are all alike to me. ‘Now,’ she said, in an imperious manner that so much reminded him of Melusine that he was obliged to suppress a grin, ‘I can see you properly. ‘I don’t think you need do that, Melusine—if I may call you so. He tries hard to conceal it, but he cannot. E.
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