She watched, puzzled, as her cavalier frowned at the newcomer, glancing from him to Melusine and back again. ‘Point it at me. McClintock, striking a match to relight his cigar, broke the spell. From what do you wish to be rescued?’ The girl fluttered her eyelashes, sighed dramatically and spread her hands. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. He seized a tray, squatted on the floor, and imitated the tom-tom. She felt she must fly before it and could no longer do so. And he could not return this love. She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. Mother and Son XI. Even the love of a mother does not sway him. You are the one person I can understand and feel—feel right with.
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