“I want to be your friend,” he said. There was first the Avenue, which ran in a consciously elegant curve from the railway station into an undeveloped wilderness of agriculture, with big, yellow brick villas on either side, and then there was the pavement, the little clump of shops about the postoffice, and under the railway arch was a congestion of workmen’s dwellings. If he had imagined Melusine would be hampered by her petticoats, he was disappointed. “He must never know,” she would whisper to herself, “he must never know. She was frightfully hungry. The chapel was situated in the old ballroom, and from there, down a few stairs, the vestry had taken the place of the pantry next to the kitchens. Her senses were prickled when she felt a new pair of eyes upon her. He dug about in his mind for a term to fit her, and he came upon the word new. One cannot trust any man at all.
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