Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. He was a good foster dad that had never so much as leered at her, not even once. "I'm dumb. ‘Do not speak any more for you give yourself pain,’ said Melusine fearfully. But something instinctive prevented that, and with the finest resolve not to be “silly” and prudish she found that whenever he became at all bold in this matter she became severely scientific and impersonal, almost entomological indeed, in her method; she killed every remark as he made it and pinned it out for examination.
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