About many of these houses hung a mysterious taint as of something weakly and commonly and dustily evil; the women who negotiated the rooms looked out through a friendly manner as though it was a mask, with hard, defiant eyes. Will you find your destiny, I wonder, or will you go through life like so many others—a wanderer, knocking ever at empty doors, homeless to the last? Oh, if one could but find the way to your heart. The honey on his tongue turned to ashes. ‘Does Charvill know that this Melusine of yours is here?’ The question distracted Gerald. Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous. Nobody will ever know what the fleas thought.
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