‘You do not want to be a nun,’ he said now, and Melusine noted with a prick at her senses the irritation in his tone. “Veronica!” cried Miss Stanley, warningly, and, “Peter!” For a moment they seemed on the verge of an altogether desperate scuffle. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. It was like pouring a strong acid over dulled metal. I was grounded for the last two weeks. ’ ‘Ah, no?’ She saw his guard relax and lunged again. . . She told you —the truth. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. Ennison,” she said. Spurling, drily.
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