Chapter Eight For an instant in the silence that followed, shocked into immobility, Melusine stared in horror at the body lying there so still. This was David Courtlaw, whose ways, too, had never been very different from the ways of other men as regards her sex. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. ’ *** The tapping for which Melusine had been waiting came at last.
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