‘I don’t want a hue and cry after me, I thank you. I want to boast myself. Ed. The Disguise. . The old man Pottiswick, still grumbling, much to Melusine’s disgust, had gone on his errand to his daughter’s house some two miles distant. He patted the hand on his sleeve. Perhaps once it had desired some other human being intolerably. She posed herself before her mirror and surveyed herself with gravely thoughtful, gravely critical, and yet admiring eyes. I’m glad the old sore is assuaged. That a longing of hers should be realized in this strange fashion was difficult to believe: it vaguely suggested something of a trap. As for himself, there had never been a touch of it. “I really do not believe,” he announced with satisfaction, “that any one would recognize me.
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