“I wonder which of us is right,” she said. She had been fighting down this thought for days: that Hoddy did not care, that he did not love her, that he had mistaken a vagary of the mind for a substance, and now regretted what he had done— married a girl who was not his equal in anything. “I don’t care a rap for remembering. ‘Come, come, ma’am,’ he said smiling. ’ ‘It is you who is absurd,’ countered Melusine, the spark returning to her eye. She could tell that he was leering at her. It was a “territory” back then, and many a Frenchman and a Redskin both had been devoured in those caves. And neither had any of that theatricality which demands gestures and facial expression.
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