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Now it occurred to him that to show her the sealed letter would be a better way. ‘Oh, my God, she’s gone!’ Wrenching his hand from his friend’s slackened grasp, he darted for the door, Roding behind him. Then for a time she sat very still. It would not be possible otherwise to live in daily contact with this level-eyed, lovely girl without loving her. “I have always,” she admitted calmly, “taken a certain amount of interest in Annabel’s future. ’ ‘Where, then?’ Melusine asked again. Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman.
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