Melusine sighed with relief at being alone at last and free to resume her search among the portraits. He bowed over her hand, venturing to drop a kiss on it’s leathery surface. “You were never born,” he declared, “to follow the well worn roads. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. Indeed, almost insensibly Ann Veronica became habituated to the peculiar appearance and the peculiar manners of the people “in the van. “Not for these things, O Ann Veronica, have you revolted,” it said; “and this is not your appropriate purpose.
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