For the first time, perhaps, in his life, he repented of his brutality. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. ‘Melusine was making herself mistress of them when we met. I know he is dead. It comforts him when he is most forlorn. As concertmaster, it was Lucy’s duty to seat the orchestra as well as tune them. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word.
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