Next instant, Melusine’s blade sank into Gosse’s flesh. The shape of the head, the height and breadth of the brow, the angle of the nose, the cut of the chin and jaws, all were fine, of a type she had never before looked upon closely. He stood up abruptly and went to the window. Manning central in her mind. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. It had certainly caused some havoc in the uninhabited mansion, chewing through Holland covers to get at the furniture beneath, and knocking down a fire guard and a couple of wooden stands. He hated horizons.
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