"If I had my old tools with me, we'd soon master this obstacle," he muttered. Melusine fetched her stool and plonked it down next to her great-aunt’s chair. A shy virgin bride would not press her thigh sinuously against his, nor consent indeed to this clandestine little comedy he had been playing. Will you find your destiny, I wonder, or will you go through life like so many others—a wanderer, knocking ever at empty doors, homeless to the last? Oh, if one could but find the way to your heart. She pulled her veil down, and he knew that silence was best. It was hard to meet that gaze.
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