’ ‘It is you who is absurd,’ countered Melusine, the spark returning to her eye. "And yet—but it is only part of the chain of ill-luck that seems wound around me. I wonder, Ann Veronica, if, when our time comes, we shall be any wiser?” Ann Veronica watched a water-beetle fussing across the green depths. She observed the tides, amazed by how high the water could rise, almost touching the tops of the cliffs. “P. Earles,” she exclaimed. She could not analyse what was stirring in her: the thought of losing the doll, the dog, and the cat. "What do you want?" he asked, in a gruff voice. “Do you know,” she confessed, “I never thought of that?” He looked at her as though doubting even now whether she could possibly be in earnest. “You understand, then,” he was saying, “you understand?” “I understand,” said Ann Veronica, tear-wet and flushed with a reciprocal passion, but standing up to him with an equality that amazed even herself, “I understand. Let me run you for six months.
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