His attention was focused on Melusine’s transfixed stare and he forgot to say any of the things he had planned to say. And pouring the contents of a small powderflask into a bumper of brandy, he tendered him the mixture. It mattered not whether she flunked the year as she would soon be gone. Under this unnerving scrutiny, a slow flush mounted to the woman’s cheeks. . ’ ‘Merci. "Good-b'ye!" And with a cordial shake of the hand he took his departure. Nevertheless, Sir John had the look of a man who was enjoying himself. These passers-by who touch us but lightly and are gone, leaving the eternal imprint! So long as she lived, Ruth would always remember that embrace.
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