She caught her finger in the lock and had to ask him to help pry it out. ‘Are you going to tell me?’ ‘But looking for proof,’ Melusine uttered impatiently. She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf. She was a clever girl, the best of her year in the High School, and she made a valiant fight for Somerville or Newnham but her father had met and argued with a Somerville girl at a friend’s dinner-table and he thought that sort of thing unsexed a woman. The features were indistinct, but was that not a halo of white about it? And the dark shadow below, was that a cloak, or the habit of a nun? Skirting the dancing, from which he had taken a breather—not from lack of energy, but to escape the inanities of the young ladies he had partnered—Gerald made his way to a side door in the saloon and opened it.
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