Drenched to the skin,—in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,—and chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move. “Would you stand it? I’m going to clear out. ’ ‘But why, Marthe,’ asked Melusine, as she walked into the house. Why should I?” “At last,” he murmured, “at last I have found you. I took the usual way home. ” He took his place by her side, and they talked lightly of London, the shops and people. The fibre of his soul had to be tested, queerly, to make him worthy of you.
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