The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. He glanced down between the still narrow distance that lay between Melusine and himself, and discovered her hand there, a very small dagger within it. He looked at her with an expression of comical despair. ‘Don’t dare call her that to my face. She must be beautiful, but beauty is only the beginning. ’ Gerald eyed her with interest. He climbed on top of her, pressing her into the couch cushions, the gown billowing around them like a cotton candy parachute. But he's witty and amusing, and when reasonably drunk he can play the piano like a Paderewski.
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