’ ‘But you are not a surgeon,’ protested Melusine. " "Six," he corrected. " "Thieves!" exclaimed Mrs. A dozen books lay upon the counterpane. “For instance?” She smiled. The inn was a military haunt. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. She read voraciously, and presently, because of her aunt’s censorship, she took to smuggling any books she thought might be prohibited instead of bringing them home openly, and she went to the theatre whenever she could produce an acceptable friend to accompany her.
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