“I am. It seems only yesterday that she was running down the Avenue, all hair and legs. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. Melusine choked on a laugh, and Gerald at once seized the initiative, speaking in a tone deliberately soothing. I know now what it is to be an abandoned female. And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. ’ ‘But it is stupide. Edgeworth Bess, who passed for Sheppard's wife, was secured. She stood on the mat instead, and looked down on him. There was—a service. He seemed to be about to move toward her.
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