Melusine had confessed this morning, that she had borrowed his horse, that Jack had met with his accident through her fault. He has nothing to fall back upon, no substitute; but a woman always has the mother love. Oh, I’ve loved love, dear! I’ve loved love and you, and the glory of you; and the great time is over, and I have to go carefully and bear children, and—take care of my hair—and when I am done with that I shall be an old woman. Only an undermaid I was then. She drew a long breath. When she got back to her questions again in the monotonous high-road that led up the hill, she found the image of Mr. “Mean as an old mule, too.
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