Quilt's manner, indeed, was that of a man endeavouring to muster up sufficient resolution for the commission of some desperate crime. Confound this slavery of sex! I am a man! I will get this under if I am killed in doing it!” She scowled into the cold blacknesses about her. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. The important secret remained locked in my breast, but I resolved to be avenged. ’ ‘But why, Marthe,’ asked Melusine, as she walked into the house.
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