Again the chalky pallor spread even to her lips, her eyes became lit with the old terror. E below. But she no longer felt Jacomo’s age, even if she looked it. “There’s no end of things I’d like to talk over with you. ‘No, let me guess,’ he interrupted. ’ She frowned suddenly. "A hell of a muddle! But all the talk in the world can't undo it. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced. “You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. ’ Lucilla Froxfield laughed gaily. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. Their colloquy was ended abruptly by the apparition of Miss Klegg at the further door. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. His eyes swept down and Melusine felt the quiver at her lips where he gazed. It clicked and the bookshelf was once more intact.
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