‘Why?’ Melusine eyed him dubiously. I’ve wanted you—always. The little spot of rouge was vivid enough now by reason of this new pallor, which seemed to draw the colour even from her lips. Besides, revenge is sweetened by delay; and I indulge too freely in the passion to rob it of any of its zest. As she talked, the drift and significance of what she was saying shaped itself slowly to Ann Veronica’s apprehension. She had pushed aside her azure veil, taken off her snow-glasses, and sat smiling under her hand at the shining glories—the lit cornices, the blue shadows, the softly rounded, enormous snow masses, the deep places full of quivering luminosity—of the Taschhorn and Dom.
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