” They left the restaurant just as the rain slowed to a dull trickle, the fury of the storm exhausted, having left mirror puddles in its wake. Me, I prefer to forget that I have such a father. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. ’ ‘But it is imbecile,’ interrupted Melusine, struck by the impracticalities of her father’s scheme. He certainly bore inspection. “And how did you find us here?” “I called at Montague Street a few minutes after you had left. Go and prepare for our departure.
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