The race began once more; but this time Ruth knew that there would be no escape. “Would you mind calling that hansom for me?” He looked at it critically and shook his head. “Dear husband,” she murmured. He was waiting in the outer hall as she tiptoed in. She addressed Anna with a beaming smile and a very creditable mixture of condescension and officiousness. . Following him, and acting out of instinct rather than intent, Melusine took a firm grasp of the gilt frame with both hands, lifted it high in the air and, with a shrieking curse, brought it down hard. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent.
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