“I want to find an address. ’ ‘Back?’ Melusine put a hand to her aching temple. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. “You propose, then,” she remarked, “that I shall still be saddled with a pseudo husband. Prison was bleak without spaciousness, and pervaded by a faint, oppressive smell; and she had to wait two hours in the sullenly defiant company of two unclean women thieves before a cell could be assigned to her. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. There was nothing left now of the selfassured, prosperous man of affairs. His hand rested heavily and cruelly upon Ruth's shoulder.
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