She could not move. For she needed him. She looked away. Fortescue in the drawing-room, and actually shake hands with him in an entirely hopeless manner and hope everything would turn out for the best. ‘Oh, my God, Melusine, what have I done?’ Melusine shook her head. You will find it somewhere in that book. There's the paragraph. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced.
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