’ *** In the cosy little parlour that Pottiswick rarely used, Melusine paced restlessly to and fro. “You must remember,” she said, “that you yourself are responsible for your altered looks. It is to set me right with Winifred. He seemed so clean anyway, his fair 215 skin, his light brown hair, there almost seemed to be no point. ’ ‘You certain? She’s a thought too volatile for my money. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy. ’ For a moment he looked daunted.
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