Whatever may happen to-morrow I shall be none the better for anticipating its miseries to-day. His eyes swept the company, and fell upon Melusine with a glare. She sings better perhaps. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. Sheppard. But her mind was ruffled, and its mirror-like surface of satisfaction was not easily restored. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. She turned there, clasped her hands behind her back and put up her chin.
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