She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. He was always anticipating, stepping into the future, torturing himself with non-existent troubles. But all these hours, trying to teach the child wariness toward life, and the moment his back was turned, this! He was, perhaps, still dazed by the inner revelation—his own interest in Ruth. She lit the cigarette with a tiny Kelly green drugstore lighter. But she was relentless. She was no longer a confederate in that. It is I who am persecuted by the man who calls himself your husband. There was no one at all in this room, but through the half-open door of one of the small apartments that gave upon it she had a glimpse of two very young girls sitting at a littered table and writing briskly. He knew not how to act, urged as he was in two directions. Á bientot—Melusine.
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