The intensity of the eyes and the defiant tone bewildered the doctor, who found his well-constructed jeremiad without a platform. She would stare if she knew the full sum of Melusine’s activities. She shook her head. "That's your hunting ground," said the doctor. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. Splendidly.
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