Cathy stood in the bedroom hallway in her faded blue bathrobe. "Quick. Ten thousand islands, and each one good for a night's rest. ‘Melusine…Melusine. “I do not lay claim,” he continued, “to any remarkable amount of insight, but it is possible, is it not, that I have stumbled upon your present cause of distress. We’ll have Trodger check it out later. With such qualifications as she possessed, two chief channels of employment lay open, and neither attracted her, neither seemed really to offer a conclusive escape from that subjection to mankind against which, in the person of her father, she was rebelling.
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