They were in many respects so right; she clung to that, and shirked more and more the paradoxical conviction that they were also somehow, and even in direct relation to that rightness, absurd. ‘And this is where you have been all the time?’ ‘I would have been back in a day, I promise you. She brought her hands up to her head and ripped out two long chunks of her hair, pulling out shreds of scalp. “Slavery! Downtroddenness! When I think of it I feel all over boot marks— men’s boots. It was maddening to be made to feel that he was in any way the inferior of this cool, self-possessed young woman, whose eyes seemed for a moment to scintillate with scorn. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. White men never went abroad without helmets. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. “I thought I was just up against Morningside Park and father, but it’s the whole order of things—the whole blessed order of things. You and I. I cannot protect you. ‘Pardon, mademoiselle, but perhaps your father went to England, after all, and —’ ‘My father went to Italy,’ interrupted Melusine, her heart tightening with the familiar sensation of loss.
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