But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. ‘What was Leonardo to you?’ Melusine was instantly on the defensive. "Who are you?" inquired Mrs. ‘Am I right in supposing you to have been a sister to the late Mr Jarvis Remenham?’ ‘Quite right. Guiltily, she felt very little for him, and yet she wondered what he would be like. At Boulogne they took train to Basle; next morning they breakfasted together in the buffet of that station, and thence they caught the Interlaken express, and so went by way of Spies to Frutigen. The major will not call.
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