That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. ‘What in God’s name is going on?’ Glancing swiftly towards the doorway, Gerald saw his friend’s disbelieving face and burst out, speaking over the top of Melusine as she made another grab for the little square of linen. In reply to this summons a horn was instantly blown at the corner of the street. She could not bear the shame of it. "What for?" demanded Wood. She could not analyse what was stirring in her: the thought of losing the doll, the dog, and the cat. She was, she guessed, close to the library. "Perhaps that would have been best.
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