There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. She put her clothes back on, 118 lipstick smeared all over her face. She remained for a few moments standing as though listening to his retreating footsteps. ‘What was you wanting it for, may I ask?’ ‘You may not ask, for it is none of your affair,’ Melusine snapped. 23 She had always considered herself a simple wool maker’s daughter, but she began to realize that by marrying Gianfrancesco she had unwittingly gained entrance to a separate world. The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park. ‘But only think, Hilary,’ Lucy protested, evidently too involved in her theory to waste time in scolding. She would never love him as she loved Capes, of course, but there are grades and qualities of love.
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