Anna was singing as she used to sing. All was darkness, horror, confusion, ruin. "Women must have their wills while they live, since they can make none when they die," observed Wood, as he imprinted a kiss of reconciliation on the plump hand of his consort;—a sentiment to the correctness of which the party chiefly interested graciously vouchsafed her assent. The immense disillusionment that awaited him! The devastating disillusionment! She had a vague desire to run after him, to state her case to him, to wring some understanding from him of what life was to her. “I—I am sorry—I didn’t explain. He looked eager and flushed and troubled. ’ ‘Hélas, poor you,’ Melusine rejoined sarcastically. Why don’t you wait and see if you do truly love me, then I can believe you? Then I know I am worth waiting for. ’ ‘Success?’ Her eyes narrowed. But kill me rather than commit this outrage. You are not my husband. So I made haste and recovered. “Who will you stop with?” “I shall go on my own. ” Her mind went back to that treaty. Far too old to ask you on your first date.
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