50 \"You might mention her, but don't mention the Prom. “She can’t. I tore the marriage certificate from his pocket and burnt it. But when it came to broaching them, it proved to be much more difficult than she had supposed. Least of all myself. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. I would not have him know—now—for the world. "Mother—dear mother!" said Jack, bursting into tears. ‘Oh, my God, Melusine, what have I done?’ Melusine shook her head. I didn’t ought to have sent for him.
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