Lucy felt her heart splinter in her breast. ‘Who has begun this but you?’ Gerald barely heard her. A woman hard to read, who seemed to delight in keeping locked up behind that fascinating rigidity of feature the intense sensibility which had been revealed to him, her master, only in occasional and rare moments of enthusiasm. But it was of vital importance to Melusine, and Gerald felt he must pursue it. “You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. It seemed incredible that she and her aunt were, indeed, creatures of the same blood, only by a birth or so different beings, and part of that same broad interlacing stream of human life that has invented the fauns and nymphs, Astarte, Aphrodite, Freya, and all the twining beauty of the gods. B.
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