He did make her perceive something of the acute, tormenting desire for her that had arisen in him and possessed him. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. She turned on the lad with her, who was visibly relieved. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. ’ Again, Melusine did not waste words. “No doubt about that,” Meddoes continued.
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