Could she understand what she was talking about? Luckily it was a second-class carriage and the ordinary fellowtravellers were not there. Seems as she don’t trust soldiers easy. She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. ‘Now what?’ The guard jerked his head up the corridor. It has. Supposing she saw the young man at dinner that night, emptying his bottle? She could not go to him, sit down and draw the sordid pictures she had seen so often. He walked on for an hour longer, till he could scarcely drag one leg after another. ‘And so also have I. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement.
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