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" "Hear me, Madam, I beseech you," interposed Mrs. Mere formality. They agreed to lend her their hold-all and a large, formless bag which they called the communal trunk. Take my advice. Come in! Come in, do. ‘Certainly I am not a nun. And now— I suppose I should be considered too old. “Perhaps. ’ There was satisfaction in Melusine’s voice. The next morning she went out with her post-office savings bank-book, and telegraphed for a warrant to draw out all the money she had in the world. There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor. "I don't understand you, gentlemen," stammered he, at length. But beyond "amicable agreement in which mutual concessions are made," the word "compromise" was as blank as the Canton wall at night. .
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