For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. It was for ever. About this conception of ownership he perceived and desired a certain sentimental glamour, he liked everything properly dressed, but it remained ownership. People had started filling the hall: instrumentalists, overly conscientious parents. “Well?” he asked her tersely. Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world. Melusine approached with caution and sat warily at one end, looking up at him expectantly.
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