Whether they are loved or unloved has no bearing upon this desire to test their wings, to try this new adventure, to take this leap into the dark. Good riddance. “I will not have this slavery,” she said. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. “I think we are growing sensible,” he said. Running his hand hastily over it, he was startled to find it one complicated mass of bolts and bars. She went about, intentlooking and self-possessed, trim and fine, concealing her emotions whatever they were, as the realities of her position opened out before her. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. But the general was turning on him, the hint of emotion wiped from his lined features. I said I’d make shirts. ’ ‘The horse?’ echoed Melusine. I don’t mean I’m not a good woman—I mean that I’m not a GOOD woman. ‘Oh, the Frenchie.
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