’ ‘You mean monsieur le baron, the General Charvill, my grandfather?’ Melusine laid aside on the table the letter she had been studying and turned so that the frame of her nun’s wimple no longer obscured her view. He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. Indeed, a note of weeping broke her voice for a moment as she burst out, “You know as well as I do that money was a loan!” “Loan!” “You yourself called it a loan!” “Euphuism. The thing is done. Why can’t you let it be?’ Gerald grinned at him. It was interesting to see how different and characteristic his mode of approach was to all sorts of questions that interested her, and it was amusing to discover this other side to the life of a Morningside Park inhabitant. “Mr. His face was white. I dare not reflect upon the effect that her son's fate,—if the efforts to save him are ineffectual,—may have upon her enfeebled frame, and still worse upon her mind. When she got back to her questions again in the monotonous high-road that led up the hill, she found the image of Mr. Brendon. He would pull this young fellow back; but later he knew that he would have to fight the boy's lack of will to live. And so your Melusine is busy trying to prove that she is the real one.
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