Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. “You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. It warms me, and lights me, and fills my world with flowers. Melusine was unable to repulse him—even had she tried. As she came close, he took a pace forward and seized her from behind, one strong arm clamping her tight against his chest, the free hand seizing her about the mouth, stifling the cry that gurgled in her throat. The teacher droned on and on about the mournful funerary love of Romeo and Juliet, a tale she had long since tired of.
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