The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. But her words were not addressed to Melusine. " "You might trust me," said Rachel, in an offended tone; "but never mind. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. ” She groaned aloud and bowed her forehead to her knees. Gone were the old days where an old maid banged on an upright piano above a roaring crowd, this sound was loud enough to be heard outside the building, she thought to herself as her eardrums throbbed.
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