In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. Each became frightfully aware of the other as a plastic energetic body, of the strong muscles of neck against cheek, of hands gripping shoulder-blade and waist. “Better state of mind,” she gasped. “David,” she said, “you are not a coward, are you?” “I do not know,” he muttered. " "But you are young!" It was a protest, almost vehement. Melusine fetched her stool and plonked it down next to her great-aunt’s chair.
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