” One Friday, as she was sitting in the fifth row two seats left of center in Sixth Period Study Hall, a dull hard object thudded against the back of her head. From the opposite corner under the trees a man with his hat slouched over his eyes stood and glowered at them. “John, don’t!” she cried. On the present occasion, he appeared to have bestowed more than ordinary attention on his toilette. ‘It must have been so, Melusine, or I wouldn’t have kissed you. ‘Doesn’t she, Gerald?’ Gerald held up his hands. If he adhered to this policy—to keep away from her inconspicuously—she would forget the name by night, and to-morrow even the bearer of it would sink below the level of recollection.
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