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“It is Rhea’s infant. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. It was a letter. Hitherto in the world’s history there had been precursors of this Progress at great intervals, voices that had spoken and ceased, but now it was all coming on together in a rush. It would not be possible otherwise to live in daily contact with this level-eyed, lovely girl without loving her. ’ ‘How did you come by it? You didn’t steal it, did you?’ ‘Certainly I did not steal it,’ said Melusine indignantly. ’ ‘That,’ said Gosse, ‘is a matter of opinion. The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold.
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