Martha had grumbled at being obliged to report the matter to Mother Josephine, who had decreed that Melusine must confess to Father Saint-Simon. She emerged with a white face and wide-open eyes upon a little, red-lit landing. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. No matter how often she came across this phase in love stories, there was never anything explanatory: as if all human beings perfectly understood. She was a very elegant young woman, slightly taller perhaps than her sister, and with an air of reserved strength underneath her quiet face and manner which Annabel may have lacked. He then said that if she would not obey him in this course she should “never darken his doors again,” and was, indeed, frightfully abusive. He filled his pipe slowly.
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