‘Now then, missie, where do you think you’re going?’ ‘I must see Jacques only for one little minute,’ Melusine told him prettily, fluttering her lashes. . Anything else that was said she now regarded only as an aspect of or diversion from that. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. Ah Cum was not a sailor, but he knew his water-front.
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