With the immediate necessities in train, Melusine fell to brooding on her situation, which she found insupportable. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. ‘It is you who is the fool,’ she threw at him, whipping round again. She held out her arms to him and smiled. She tried not to blush. At times he seemed to be claiming pity from her; at times he was threatening her with her check and exposure; at times he was boasting of his inflexible will, and how, in the end, he always got what he wanted. She could neither speak nor move nor cry out. I wouldn't have him see me in this state for the world. Silly, isn’t it? Undisciplined.
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