"I have not told you half. She found no ready reply to that, and he went on: “This music is the food of love. “John,” she declared, “I must eat or die. ‘You have made a serious mistake, Melusine. “And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better. Death belongs to God, young man. She was perplexed by this, and stood for some seconds in the empty street hesitating, until the appearance of another circumspect woman under the street lamp at the corner reassured her. She opened and read it at once. We looked upon you, my dear Sir John, with reverence, almost with awe.
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