‘Now,’ she said, in an imperious manner that so much reminded him of Melusine that he was obliged to suppress a grin, ‘I can see you properly. " Something reached down into his heart and twisted it. There was no answer, just grunting, so she repeated the question in Latin, then in Greek, to which Rhea responded. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. ‘This is not a place for a man. Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards. .
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