Drowning, her brain dizzy, Melusine clung to the source of the flooding warmth, her hands, no longer forcibly held, moving without will about the firm back. The young lady—if she had come in here at all—had vanished. “I don’t see there’s any getting away from the fact that you and I love each other,” he said, slowly. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. " With no little effort—for the right words had a way of tumbling back out of reach—he marshalled his phrases, and as he uttered them, closed his eyes to lessen the possibility of a break. She thought of her aunt and that purse that was dropped on the table, and of many troublesome and ill-requited kindnesses; she thought of the help of the Widgetts, of Teddy’s admiration; she thought, with a new-born charity, of her father, of Manning’s conscientious unselfishness, of Miss Miniver’s devotion. And it filled seven sheets of notepaper, each written only on one side.
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