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“Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. Under her feet lay intricate mosaics, and each warm hall was festooned in tapestries. ’ Melusine’s eyes misted. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. To fall upon those tales for the first time, when the mind was fresh and the heart was young! He became aware of an odd phase to this conversation. Perhaps the Parisian atmosphere had affected him. They began to wrestle fiercely. The idea of leaving for Mexico had become unbearable, as he was so easy to like and perhaps even easier to love. ‘In love? I? Don’t be ridiculous.
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