He refused. “I’ll be here at one in the morning. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. She took the piece of paper and unfolded it in the safety of her lap. ’ ‘Melusine,’ repeated the old lady. He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes. Wood turned over to obtain a more comfortable position. It dawned upon him that he had been abominably used by Ann Veronica. A failure! She must write herself down a failure! At her age, with her ambitions, with her artistic temperament and creative instincts, she was yet to be denied all coherent means of expression. ” “It seems so—so unworthy”—she picked among her phrases “of the noble love you give—” She stopped, through the difficulty she found in expressing herself. To the poor carpenter it seemed an endless distance.
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