She drank and drank until his body was a lifeless husk, as light as a mannequin, virtually hollow of all but the fluid in his bones. Melusine was silent, revolving this outcome in her mind as she stared at Roding, who was frowning at her in a puzzled way. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. “But it makes me feel inhuman,” he added. He was a business man, pure and simple, his eyes were fastened always upon the practical side of life. He returned to the car, Cokes in hand. She was curious to know why he had boarded a dingy train instead of hailing a cab or his own private chauffeur like the others in expensive suits were doing.
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