Melusine jumped up, turning swiftly. Hitherto it had been qualified by her conception of all life as a compromise, by her new effort to be unexacting of life. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. I was visiting the royal family, as they sought me for a tutor for their sons over the summer. “Not at all. ’ Grasping the lantern, and heedless now of the discomforts of the passage, Melusine flew like the wind back towards the library, the vision of Jack Kimble’s white face driving her on. There was something about their greeting and the tone of Annabel’s exclamation which puzzled her. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice.
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