Wood laughed louder than ever. ‘And I suppose I shall be obliged to endure another nonsensical tale about your husband. Melusine, starved of colour for years, revelled in it. He stood up abruptly and went to the window. Yes, very well. It was very much like a real house, with one central stalagmite that looked like a column and a waterfall that served when she wanted to bathe. She liked his face; it had on it the suggestion of gentleness, of fineness. I shall quit this roof to-morrow. Her eardrums were burning with the echoes of those hideous shouts. She bent down. Others pulled hats over their noses, cowered in their seats, and feigned that all was right with the world.
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