‘Now then, missie, where do you think you’re going?’ ‘I must see Jacques only for one little minute,’ Melusine told him prettily, fluttering her lashes. The splendid voices sang on from phase to phase of love’s unfolding, the ship drove across the sea to the beating rhythm of the rowers. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. . He wore a silk hat a little tilted, and a morning coat buttoned round a tight, contained figure; and a white slip gave a finish to his costume and endorsed the quiet distinction of his tie. “All right so far,” she said to herself. He sat in much the same attitude, and she stood just as she had stood when he told her she could not go to the Fadden Dance.
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