” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. . “Garçon,” he said, “will you ask the gentleman at the next table if he will do me the honour of taking a glass of wine with me. There was a round table covered, not with the usual “tapestry” cover, but with a plain green cloth that went passably with the wall-paper. “I shall not speak,” he said, “now or at any other time. “Oh I most definitely think so. ’ ‘What matters it?’ cried Melusine impatiently. ” She looked thoughtfully into the fire.
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