And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. ‘Melusine!’ Distracted, Gosse blinked and his eyes flicked away from Melusine’s just as she flung the fullness of her gathered petticoats in the way of his blade. The car ride to the new movie theater, a multiplex, was brief and harrowing. These daughters! He gnawed his pen and reflected, tore the sheet up, and began again. Wood. A woman indeed this to love and be loved, beautiful, graceful, gay. F. “Forgive me,” he said. He had but to give his orders.
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