They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. ‘She would say, espéce de diable, this Melusine. ’ ‘I do not lie to you now,’ she said, near frantic at the thought of losing him. “Suppose you call me by my proper name,” she said quietly. He used to live in a boarding-house in Russell Square. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. "You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast.
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