‘You do not want to be a nun,’ he said now, and Melusine noted with a prick at her senses the irritation in his tone. The lights of the Champs Elysées and the Place de la Concorde, suggestive, brilliant, seductive, shone like an army of fireflies against the deep cool background of the night. The agony on the sands now ceased to puzzle her. And, without another word, he seized the table with both hands, and upset it; scattering plates, dishes, bottles, jugs, and glasses far and wide. ‘He was very kind to me. “It was a bad day for me,” he said, speaking slowly and painfully. He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw.
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