She felt the softest touch caress her cheek, and a wave of tenderness engulfed Melusine. It probably had its own repulsive oubliette in the bottom, where tiny princesses could fall and break their necks. On the one hand, she seemed to think plainly and simply, and would talk serenely and freely about topics that most women have been trained either to avoid or conceal; and on the other she was unconscious, or else she had an air of being unconscious—that was the riddle—to all sorts of personal applications that almost any girl or woman, one might have thought, would have made. Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. What do you say to Brighton——” Anna looked at him quietly—and he never finished his sentence. . ’ The lashes fluttered demurely.
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