acquainted, she complained to him of her loneliness and her husband's
unkindness. But his north-country caution protected him from any
sentimentalizing, however innocent. And before the end of the winter
Netta detested him. Meanwhile she and Anastasia lived for one hope only.
From many indications it was plain that Melrose was going south in March.
The women were determined not to stay behind him. But, instinctively,
they never raised the subject, so as not to risk a struggle prematurely.

Meanwhile Melrose passed a winter wholly satisfactory to himself. The
partial unpacking of his collections was an endless source of amusement
and pleasure. But his curious egotism showed itself very plainly in the
business. He made no attempt at artistic arrangement, though there was
some classification. As fast as one room was filled--the vacant
packing-cases turned on their sides, serving to exhibit what they had
once contained--he would begin upon another. And woe to Mrs. Dixon or
Thyrza if they attempted any cleaning in one of his rooms! The
collections were for himself only, and for the few dealers or experts to
whom he chose to show them. And the more hugger-mugger they were, the
less he should be pestered to let people in to see them. Occasionally he
would rush up to London to attend what he called a "high puff sale"--or
to an auction in one of the northern towns, and as he always bought
largely, purchases kept arriving, and the house at the end of the winter
was in a scarcely less encumbered and disorderly condition than it had
been at the beginning. The few experts from the Continent or America,
whom he did admit, were never allowed a word of criticism of the
collections. If they ventured to differ from Melrose as to the
genuineness or the age of a bronze or a marble, an explosion of temper
and a speedy dismissal awaited them.

One great stroke of luck befel him in February which for a time put him