Friday was not a big dinner night at the Beck house. That was the inconvenience of it; her head was swimming. ‘Melusine, don’t sit there. ’ ‘Couldn’t help but do so, ma’am,’ said Mrs Ibstock. Never since I was a girl have I seen your father so moved. For the past four weeks mirrors had been her delight, a new toy. Had he been sick in the mind when he had done this damnable thing? It did not seem possible, for he could recall clearly all he had said and done; there were no blank spaces to give him one straw of excuse. He wriggled underneath her heaving body, pinned like an insect.
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