He had mentioned teaching her how to read Latin one day when she had wandered into the library. He was a shy boy outwardly but she knew him better in his thoughts, in which perhaps she had already taken upon the role of lover. And how could I come home—when he locks me in rooms and all that?” “I do wish this wasn’t going on,” said Miss Stanley, after a pause. The figure she had longed to see came into her line of vision, but at this crucial moment of hideous realisation, Melusine barely took it in, her eyes fixing blankly on the man behind. “I have to go out. .
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