276 He opened the box. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. Melusine felt the calloused hand grasp around hers. Her thick body was heavy and massive. Like the nuns, she hardly ever looked in a mirror. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. Meantime, a change had taken place in the weather. Not so Gosse. His expression became pained. “Really,” she said. “In the first place, I have no objection to the posters, as they have no name on them, but I do not wish to appear at all upon the stage as ‘Alcide.
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