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“That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. And how could I come home—when he locks me in rooms and all that?” “I do wish this wasn’t going on,” said Miss Stanley, after a pause. “John, you were never bound to me, you don’t owe me anything. The vestry was perhaps the only room in the place, except her allotted curtained off portion of the dormitory chamber that served for her cell—and she could not scandalise the nuns by having a man in there, be he never so much a servant—where Melusine could be sure of privacy. There was something holding women down, holding women back, and if it wasn’t exactly man-made law, man-made law was an aspect of it. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. Or, if you were about to embark upon a nautical career, here was all the information required.
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