It seemed as if each time her imagination reached out investingly, an invisible lash beat it back. Having watched the funeral at some distance, Jonathan fancied he could discern the figure of Jack; but not being quite sure, he entered the church. ‘It was a good chance for a new life,’ Joan explained, venturing to face Melusine again, ‘and Martha took it. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. His technique had gained much subtlety over the years.
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