’ Before she could object, Melusine found herself hustled back into the house and dragged willy-nilly towards the library door, where Jack called softly. Keeping hold of the doorhandle, she turned slowly. She felt terribly modern, even sporty as the magazines declared you should be. . The door was then locked, and he was left alone. Then he released her hand, and sat back a little, appearing to concentrate his thoughts on her face. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. The agonized mother could scarcely repress a scream at the spectacle that met her gaze.
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