She had been so busy with life that, for a vast gulf of time, as it seemed, she had given no thought to those ancient, imagined things of her childhood. She could see over a waist high stone wall into the miniature courtyard, complete with benches only a small child could sit upon, one which had been broken in half, its two pieces left unjoined on the sandy ground. It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. She was very pale, but she reminded him more at that minute than at any time of “Alcide” as he had first known her. “I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest. ’ There was no denial in Martha’s face, though Melusine longed to hear her words contradicted. Both, however, having safely landed, they cautiously crossed the room, and passed down the first flight of steps in silence. They had turned into the street, on the opposite side of which were the flats where Anna lived.
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