It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. ’ ‘How did you come by it? You didn’t steal it, did you?’ ‘Certainly I did not steal it,’ said Melusine indignantly. “I am perfectly certain that that man meant to be rude to me. He was a manly man, free from any strong maternal strain, and he had loved his dark-eyed, dainty bright-colored, and active little wife with a real vein of passion in his sentiment. “Next door,” said a spectacled young person of seventeen or eighteen, with an impatient indication of the direction. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. But if you don't want to get up, maybe three times ten days.
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