But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. ’ ‘Well, I do now,’ Lucilla said firmly, and turned back to Melusine. She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. Here they would be having lunch. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. “Oh I most definitely think so.
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