She looked in the glass over and over as she checked for lint and makeup streaks. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. "What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard. A dovecoloured kincob gown, embroidered with large trees, and made very low in front, displayed to the greatest possible advantage, the rounded proportions of her figure; while a high-heeled, red-leather shoe did not detract from the symmetry of a very neat ankle, and a very small foot. He smiled inwardly. ‘No one is here, Melusine, except you and I. Then she came a few steps to meet him. Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas.
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