She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. . Mrs. ’ ‘Why should I?’ ‘Because I can’t live without you!’ ‘That is your own affair, and—’ Melusine broke off, staring at him, shocked realisation kicking in her gut. It had thrust her back with an undignified scuffle, with vulgar comedy, with an unendurable, scornful grin. The softly glittering summer stars! She saw them shining over mountains of snow, over valleys of haze and warm darkness. It was Annabel who spoke.
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