It is the old story of a Westerner meddling with an Eastern custom. Ireton will do no such thing," replied the head-turnkey. He rambled in an unfortunate monotone, the result of his innate fear of public speaking. Ann Veronica had had some training at the Tredgold College in disentangling threads from confused statements, and she had a curious persuasion that in all this fluent muddle there was something—something real, something that signified. ’ Melusine took refuge in defiance. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger. Melusine shrieked an imprecation, and ran the length of the aisle, searching for the weapon she had thrown. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. Epithalamy might do.
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