The nuns had no regard for the sensibilities of a “lady” and expected Melusine— for it was her allotted task—to clean and tend the soldier’s wounds even when they festered. ‘I’m on your side. ” “Oh my goodness. “I wonder!” said Miss Stanley. ‘Don’t involve me in your lover’s tiff. ” She said as the car stopped. Her formerly brown hair was dyed a white shade of blonde. ‘Pardon, mademoiselle, but perhaps your father went to England, after all, and —’ ‘My father went to Italy,’ interrupted Melusine, her heart tightening with the familiar sensation of loss. Groups of boys took to ogling her as she walked frenetically from class to class. It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already anticipated.
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