‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. Rebellious and resentful, Melusine decided there and then that she would do exactly that, come what may. He returned, sitting on the floor beside the couch adoring her and stroking her bare arms.
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