‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve. A slow heavy thumping started up in Melusine’s chest, and she scarcely took in the astonished silence in those present in the room. The image did not move. The big gray spaces of London, the shop-lit, greasy, shining streets, had become very remote; the biological laboratory with its work and emotions, the meetings and discussions, the rides in hansoms with Ramage, were like things in a book read and closed. Free, there is nothing left to her but the canal. You’ve placed me in a very exceptional position, Miss Stanley. She kept trying to shut her legs, to stop the baby from coming out.
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