He thought of her and himself, and no longer in that vein of incidental adventure in which he had begun. ’ ‘Gosse,’ corrected Lucilla. He leaned forward to embrace her. ‘Got you!’ ‘You!’ Stunned, Melusine moved quickly away from the tell-tale bookshelf. The lights of the Champs Elysées and the Place de la Concorde, suggestive, brilliant, seductive, shone like an army of fireflies against the deep cool background of the night. And then the fetters, which were still upon his legs:—how was he to get rid of them? Tired and dispirited, he still wandered on. She sensed that he was looking for her.
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