‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve. I don’t want you to be sad. “But why is it preposterous?” asked Ann Veronica, and fiddled with a pipe on the mantel. I made a wrong choice, it seems—but my voice remains. Mrs Sindlesham occupied a large padded armchair to one side of a corner fireplace, which gave out a heat more than adequate for September to one of the major’s robust constitution. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters. You shall have a house out at Balham or Sydenham, and two servants.
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