He did not look up, so he did not know that in her other hand she held a glass of wine. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. Drowning, her brain dizzy, Melusine clung to the source of the flooding warmth, her hands, no longer forcibly held, moving without will about the firm back.
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