The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. At last she glanced at a little clock in the corner of the room, and sprang to her feet. ‘Do not smile at me and try to make me not angry any more,’ Melusine warned, ‘for I am very angry indeed with you. It seems to me very silly. A wild passion of shame and self-disgust swept over her. Never for a moment had violence come between these two since long ago he had, in spite of her mother’s protest in the background, carried her kicking and squalling to the nursery for some forgotten crime. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed. She's not for pleasure, but for work.
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