She was asked to meet him after his game Saturday afternoon. ’ Melusine hardly dared believe she had heard him aright. Treading with noiseless step over the soft mould, they soon reached the building. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. She herself, and one other there, recognized the interposition of something akin to tragedy. That's one of the troubles with young folks: they take themselves so seriously. “It is like old times,” she said, “to hear these home truths. Tell him the truth, Annabel. ‘Tell me the truth, Melusine.
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