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I deserve pretty much what I’ve got. So I've grown hard—outside. She decided not to ask him outright if he wished to make love to her. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. ‘Who in the name of heaven is this Leonardo? And why did he kiss you?’ ‘He was an Italian soldier, and he wanted to kiss me,’ Melusine said, goaded. “What is the exact force of a motif?” she asked at random. ‘You had better kill me, mademoiselle, because otherwise I shall end by strangling you. “When did you get home last night, Lucy?” Cathy interrogated through a yawn. Her mind turned and accused itself of having been cold and hard. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery. Sometimes he was obviously irritable and uncomfortable and unfortunate in his efforts to seem at ease.
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