’ ‘Melusine, did you say?’ Mrs Sindlesham sighed. Something, then, to appease the wrath of God; something to blunt this persistent agony. It was as if she had grown right past her father into something older and of infinitely wider outlook, as if he had always been unsuspectedly a flattened figure, and now she had discovered him from the other side. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. Tombs were desecrated, beautiful statues toppled, and the colorful shops that she had been enchanted by along the canal had been closed or burned.
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