The little grating in the door, the sense of constant inspection, worried her. So, you see—’ ‘Do not say any more,’ Melusine uttered, flinging away and moving to the fireplace. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. You say I know nothing. After dinner Ann Veronica went into the drawing-room with Miss Stanley, and her father went up to his den for his pipe and pensive petrography. But there was, it insisted, no mobility in his face, no movement, nothing about him that warmed. Any natural fineness would be numbed by drink. Lucy had baked the apple and pumpkin pies, carefully molding the flour crusts and adding extra teaspoonfuls of allspice and cinnamon while no one looked. ’ Melusine edged a little away from the portrait. CHAPTER THE FOURTH THE CRISIS Part 1 We left Miss Stanley with Ann Veronica’s fancy dress in her hands and her eyes directed to Ann Veronica’s pseudo-Turkish slippers. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. At least the sun would not be as bright, which was a welcome reprieve from the mercilessly bright early summer days which had invigorated every man, woman, and child in the suburbs but were wearing Lucy down into acute fatigue, along with her hunger.
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