I'm thinking that the Wastrel was one day a celebrated professional; and the women were partly the cause of his fall. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. He bore it as long as he could, watching all the time with fascinated eyes Annabel moving gracefully about amongst her guests, always gay, with a smile and a whisper for nearly everybody. Poor young lady! She trembled too, and was unable to give her evidence. " "I'll tell you what. All at once Melusine remembered Pottiswick, and the errand he had run.
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