Perhaps he truly meant it – perhaps there was a force within him that could withstand the hardships of existing past a mortal lifetime. “He spends hours of every day on the pavement below,” Anna answered calmly. ’ Gosse’s eyes went to the portrait, and evidently took in the uncanny resemblance, looking from it to Melusine and back again. Melusine, starved of colour for years, revelled in it. ruin you. Luck. But his treasured dream lay shattered at his feet. There was something fatalistic about the letter H. His clothes were smartly pressed, his linen white, his jaws cleanly shaven; but the day would come when he would grow indifferent to bodily cleanliness.
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