Brendon and Courtlaw who had been watching for her, met her at the door. ‘Because he knows you for an imposter,’ Melusine flashed. She drifted northward from the Strand, and came on some queer and dingy quarters. Arrived there, their first object was to seek out Davies, by whom they were conducted to the lady's retreat,—a lone habitation, situated on the outskirts of Saint George's Fields in Southwark. “Now you must go,” she said firmly. Some day I'm going to paint her; but that will be when I've retired. The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year.
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