Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. Earles thinks I am a little mad, and between ourselves I am not sure about it myself. Melusine made no reply. We may be all murdered in this unprotected place, and nobody be the wiser. Her aunt was a long time before she answered. ’ She glared at Hilary. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. We’ve deserted the posts in which we found ourselves, cut our duties, exposed ourselves to risks that may destroy any sort of social usefulness in us. ’ She flounced back to stare out of the window again.
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