” An immense gulf seemed to open between father and daughter as he said these words. The nuns had no regard for the sensibilities of a “lady” and expected Melusine— for it was her allotted task—to clean and tend the soldier’s wounds even when they festered. “Are you in a hurry? Will you come in and have some coffee?” He hesitated, and glanced towards her companion. ‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. She had come across the wicked South Seas which were still infested with cannibals; she had seen drunkenness and called men beachcombers; who was this moment as innocent as a babe, and in the next uttered some bitter wisdom it had taken a thousand years of philosophy to evolve.
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