The stranger started at the touch, and spoke. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. “Why should it matter?” he said. What she actually wanted was the present state of affairs to continue indefinitely. On taxing his recollection, the whole circumstance rushed to mind with painful distinctness. ’ ‘We are not all of us so empty-headed, Melusine,’ pleaded Miss Froxfield. The huge, newly remodeled brick house was crammed full of people reeking of beer, vodka, and tequila.
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