The Scot understood that, gently and indirectly, Ruth was asking her husband a question, opening a door if he cared to enter. “I love you, Ann Veronica. ’ ‘Hélas, poor you,’ Melusine rejoined sarcastically. Accounted extremely pretty in her youth, her features and person expanded as she grew older, without much detriment to their original comeliness. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. She fought the inclination for a while, then surrendered.
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