I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet. ’ Melusine turned her head. Playing became a way of escape. And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit. Suppose—suppose a girl did want to start in life, start in life for herself—” She looked him frankly in the eyes. She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue. “Katy Pfister.
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