" "She is a matchless creature!" exclaimed the young man. “I’m not the Devil. ” A shade of concern darkened Carol Diedermayer’s face. He seemed safe from the sickness, having been surrounded by the dying, he had witnessed the carnage up close and yet his health still prevailed. “You ought at once—you ought at once to have told her that. ‘But she will not shoot you,’ Melusine told him flatly. Ye gods! what a wilderness it is! Every one trying to get the better of every one, every one regardless of every one—it’s one of those days when every one bumps against you—every one pouring coal smoke into the air and making confusion worse confounded, motor omnibuses clattering and smelling, a horse down in the Tottenham Court Road, an old woman at the corner coughing dreadfully—all the painful sights of a great city, and here you come into it to take your chances. When the word “FREAK” appeared scratched in the persimmon colored paint on her locker, she knew that in some fragile young woman’s mind a war had escalated from imaginary to physical. That could signify nothing except that the doctor had a friend down there somewhere, on an island in one of those archipelagoes.
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