Ruth hugged the envelope and McClintock, with the end of a burnt match, drew a cabalistic sign. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said. She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment. Melusine seized her chance. But there was something else; and in his befogged mental state the comparison eluded him. “I propose,” Sir John said, “that we pay for our dinner—which we haven’t had— tip the garçon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz. CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH THE COLLAPSE OF THE PENITENT Part 1 Spring had held back that year until the dawn of May, and then spring and summer came with a rush together.
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