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‘Do not beg his pardon,’ intervened Melusine quickly, coming between them. Her father was right: Ruth must never know. Wood the best of wives. And how could I come home—when he locks me in rooms and all that?” “I do wish this wasn’t going on,” said Miss Stanley, after a pause. This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy. She was glad not to be baking in it anymore, or feeling the fiberglass splinters 64 invading her rear end from sitting on the bleachers. Melusine gritted her teeth. In fact, Mr. “Dear me,” she said, “I fancy you exaggerate my fame. And, as usual,” she continued, a little bitterly, “I seem to have been sent along with the dullest and least edifying of Mrs.
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