’ Chapter Six Creeping along the dark narrow passage, with lantern held well ahead to keep her step steady on the uneven stones—and to warn her of the advent of rats— Melusine kept her long petticoats fastidiously clear of the dirt with an efficient hand, a habit she had learned in the convent. “You are wrong! I did not think you thought such things. “I’m not so sure. The colouring was green and white, with softly shaded electric lights, an alcove bedstead, which was a miracle of daintiness, white furniture, and a long low dressing-table littered all over with a multitude of daintily fashioned toilet appliances. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. You see, I—I am a woman worshipper. ‘You said it. . I thought it was a mirror at the first, for it was so very like myself. There’s hardly a night she doesn’t sneak out of the house. .
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