He left his companion in the midst of a glowing eulogy of Bastien Leparge, and boldly intercepted his hostess as she moved from one group to join another. Another long interval elapsed. ‘I should not dream of forcing my attentions on you. My mind is full of ideas and images that I have been cherishing and accumulating—dreams of travelling side by side, of lunching quietly together in some jolly restaurant, of moonlight and music and all that side of life, of seeing you dressed like a queen and shining in some brilliant throng—mine; of your looking at flowers in some old-world garden, our garden—there are splendid places to be got down in Surrey, and a little runabout motor is quite within my means. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. Melusine gave herself a little mental shake. I hate children. After all, you may easily come to fetch Mrs Ibstock when you need her.
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