There is something that inspires a feeling of inexpressible melancholy in sailing on a dark night upon the Thames. Where was the harm in letting her go? She could not get far. Ann Veronica hesitated with a question that had leaped up in her mind, and that she felt was cruel. ‘Got you!’ ‘You!’ Stunned, Melusine moved quickly away from the tell-tale bookshelf. She was glad to join in the stream of hurrying homeward workers that was now welling out of a thousand places of employment, and to imitate their driven, preoccupied haste. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand.
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