Her body rose up to meet his in a cat-like stretch and she smiled. The thought of the picture but added to her despondency. The day was sunny and pleasant, devoid of chill winds. He disappeared into its thick doors like a magician’s rabbit. A film of dust lay upon it; the ink marks were ancient. A small handgun bobbed at the end of it, aimed at Sheila. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. She felt the softest touch caress her cheek, and a wave of tenderness engulfed Melusine. But after all, what did it matter whether she had secrets or not? To him she was not a woman but a symbol; and one did not investigate the antecedents of symbols. She tiptoed to the stand and gathered up the manuscripts which she carried to a chair by the window. They all balk because there aren't any petticoats. "But, perhaps, he has not got beyond the room above. Prudence Remenham. "You can't go to sea with a book of rules.
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