She became aware of the Scotch student regarding her with stupendous amazement, a tea-cup poised in one hairy hand and his faceted glasses showing a various enlargement of segments of his eye. It had been her father’s surname, and it had sounded far more innocuous and American than Iovelli. "My child!" he groaned faintly. ‘Oh, my God, Melusine, what have I done?’ Melusine shook her head. The features were indistinct, but was that not a halo of white about it? And the dark shadow below, was that a cloak, or the habit of a nun? Skirting the dancing, from which he had taken a breather—not from lack of energy, but to escape the inanities of the young ladies he had partnered—Gerald made his way to a side door in the saloon and opened it. Don't be afraid, man,—off with it. Or, better still, put all my clothes in the trunk.
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