His first reaction had been explosive as the hurts of the past rose up to taunt him. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. Their soft, voluptuous bodies wove among each other to the faint notes of a lyre. ‘What would you? The nuns they would not believe me, and so it was not possible for me to stay. She would always be going to and fro up the Avenue, getting glimpses of Ramage, seeing him in trains. He wriggled underneath her heaving body, pinned like an insect. You have changed from the veriest butterfly to a woman—you wear different clothes, you have the air of another world. “Is Lady Lescelles in?” he asked the butler. “I cannot pretend that I am glad to see you, Lady Ferringhall,” he said quietly.
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