Lucy stared out to the busy streets beyond. ‘Melusine…Melusine. It makes no difference. Ramage!” she began, and his mouth sealed hers and his breath was mixed with her breath. She was drawn first by Miss Miniver, and then by her own natural interest, into a curious stratum of people who are busied with dreams of world progress, of great and fundamental changes, of a New Age that is to replace all the stresses and disorders of contemporary life. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands. I have been dreaming of your body and you night after night. He was human. I can’t. I have never wept since that day.
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