It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. I spent my fair share of time in the closet. “Lighten up. ’ ‘Because you are a pig!’ retorted Melusine hotly. Her confession was still unmade. I hate this part of the world. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. The pole-chair caravan resumed its journey.
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