She was honest again. “Is that you, Nigel?” she asked. All right really. There’s nothing happened at all!” She didn’t mean, he concluded, to give him any more trouble ever, and he was free to begin a fresh chromatic novel—he had just finished the Blue Lagoon, which he thought very beautiful and tender and absolutely irrelevant to Morningside Park—or work in peace at his microtome without bothering about her in the least. Gerald seized Melusine by the hand and drew her towards the stairs, throwing a command at Kimble as he did so. Perhaps the old fool was not as fanciful as they had thought. She is a fortune-teller and a vessel for man’s pleasure. Perhaps she had found this new thing in life, the thing wonderful. The music throbbed into the warnings that preceded the king’s irruption.
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