Spurlock had sensed what had gone completely over McClintock's head—that this was the playing of a soul in damnation. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. Recovering herself, Melusine tucked the weapons out of sight, down into the deep holsters hidden under the petticoat of her riding habit, and went back into the house where Martha awaited her in some impatience. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. But as the students sat about Miss Garvice’s tea-pot and drank tea or smoked cigarettes, the talk got away from Capes. F.
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