Andrew's church, the bell of which was tolling, was covered with spectators. Sheppard heaved a deep sigh, and opened her eyes, which now looked larger, blacker, and more melancholy than ever. Of course there were goats. Then she put more coal on, piled it over the ashes, and stood once more upright. Always. Mercifully, John had been sick for two of the three days of Thanksgiving week, giving her reprieve from both his presence and the machinations of Katy Pfister, who was always less active on days when he was not around. Here, where every element of her surroundings was tawdry and commonplace, and before this young man of vulgar origin and appearance, it was striking. These things illuminated her situation extremely. Yet she took with her an uneasy consciousness that in this affair might lie the germs of future trouble. It was dangerous for her to dare approaching him and she knew the tremendous risk she was taking, but a part of her demanded that he be found. Cathy appeared in her bathrobe. Melusine—the real Melusine—evidently did not see him immediately, for her attention was on her descent from the high vehicle. Over the gateway towards Snow Hill, were two strong wards, called the Castle and the Red Room. And when there is no longer any need to use it, why then, enough you say—and throw it away. Seven hundred forty-two dollars and eighty-one cents, the sum total of her money in the world that she hid in a filigreed cigar box shelved behind her schoolbooks.
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