‘Now then, my girl, why the long face?’ Melusine had no hesitation in placing her trouble before her old nurse, for it was Martha who had made her aware of her true history. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. Certainly not a gentlewoman. But most of all, I wanted to love. “I’ve brought you up some dinner, Vee,” she said. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. Too late, alas, to stop the disastrous marriage.
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