She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. She was glad not to be baking in it anymore, or feeling the fiberglass splinters 64 invading her rear end from sitting on the bleachers. “You were there, were you?” He laughed a little impatiently. Mr. ’ Melusine swung away and moved to stare dully out of the window of the little chapel vestry onto the mews outside. " "Comfort yourself, then, Aliva. You don’t know what you’re saying, and I hope you never will.
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