James's, Piccadilly. They tell me that the great world go
there now in the evenings, dressed for dinner." Privately he vowed that,
should his Sancie be one of those immaculate worshippers, she should not
fail in toilet. And he had not missed the point so far as you might think.
Philippa Tompsett-King, who had been present when these things were
discussing, had lifted an inflamed face over the dinner-table. "I only
know," she had said, "that I would rather live in Bloomsbury than have her
conscience. Cynicism has always seemed to me the sin against the Holy
Ghost." But Melusine Scales, the gentle creature, had written meekly of
her joy; and Vicky Sinclair said to her husband, the captain--"Sancie
always tumbles on her feet. She always did--like a sweet cat." Shrewd and
affectionate at once, she alone had discerned the god's prerogative
immanent in the youngest daughter of Thomas Welbore Percival.
But the picture of Sanchia and Melusine, two fair girls, standing together
embraced under the cedarn shade had smitten deep into the well-cased heart
of Cyrus Worthington. He had come upon them at a pretty moment, when
Melusine, the willowy and tall, having opened her arms to the dear truant,
one arm still about her, with her free hand touched her cheek that lips
might meet lips.
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