The young male, as she had actually seen him, had been of the sailor type, hard-bitten, primordial, ruthless. Down on me luck, I was, and they took me in. Ann Veronica looked up at him and found him regarding her with eyes that were almost woebegone, and into which, indeed, he was trying to throw much more expression than they could carry. ‘You were his daughter. She reminded him sometimes of the one holy and ineffable Madonna, at others of Berode, the great courtezan of her day, who had sent kings away from her doors, and had just announced her intention of ending her life in a convent. He was ruffled, and his ears were red, no doubt from some adjacent controversy. Then she would have quiet times, in which she would say to herself, “Now look here! Let me think it all out!” For the first time, it seemed to her, she faced the facts of a woman’s position in the world—the meagre realities of such freedom as it permitted her, the almost unavoidable obligation to some individual man under which she must labor for even a foothold in the world. Tucked under the writing-table a pair of yellow and gold Turkish slippers of a highly meretricious quality caught her eye. We girls, my sister and I, were left quite alone when our father died, and I made up my mind to make some little place in the world for myself. . . ’ Melusine’s heart twisted. That was the only sound he heard.
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