’ ‘A pox on the creature,’ swore Mrs Sindlesham, clenching and unclenching her stiff fingers. To think of him as loving her would make all that different. There was first the Avenue, which ran in a consciously elegant curve from the railway station into an undeveloped wilderness of agriculture, with big, yellow brick villas on either side, and then there was the pavement, the little clump of shops about the postoffice, and under the railway arch was a congestion of workmen’s dwellings. She exhaled, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders and arms. “No, she just worries that I’ll go Satanic and start chomping the heads off of bats and mice or something. She was watching him intently. ’ *** In the cosy little parlour that Pottiswick rarely used, Melusine paced restlessly to and fro. I will wish you success or failure, whichever is the better for you. " CHAPTER V.
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