“A ballot-box, you know,” he said, “is very largely just a box. ‘Oh, my God, Melusine, what have I done?’ Melusine shook her head. Ruth could not very well object, since an air of distinction would go with Taber. But the indecision, which had been fatal to his race, was fatal to him. Unwillingly he drew a little nearer, and became one of the group of loiterers about the entrance. Her specialty is the central thing in life, it is life itself, the warmth of life, sex—and love. She walked for a mile or more recklessly, close veiled, with swift level footsteps, though her brain was in a whirl and a horrible faintness all the time hovered about her. He filled the rôle of comrade which Spurlock dared not enact, at least not utterly as he would have liked.
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